


Say You’ll Need Me (Now and Always)

by minnuet



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Character Development, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Light Angst, Light Swearing, M/M, Non-Graphic Smut, Non-Graphic Violence, Romance, Slice of Life, xiubaek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 14:46:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5460272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minnuet/pseuds/minnuet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spring arrives in the form of a new volunteer, whose sweet smiles and lovely eyes begin to brighten up Baekhyun’s days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say You’ll Need Me (Now and Always)

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title is from The Phantom of the Opera’s “All I Ask of You”.

It’s the first day of spring.

The air is still heavy with traces of winter, the cold pinching at his nose and cheeks. Baekhyun pauses for a moment to zip up his sweater, pulling his hoodie back over his head as he adjusts the messenger bag slung over his shoulder.

The bus that he had alighted from seconds ago now rumbles past him, on its way to drop off the rest of its passengers elsewhere in this quiet town. The little girl he had sat next to earlier presses her face against the back window, a small paper flower tucked behind her ear; she waves eagerly upon spotting him.

Baekhyun waves back, grinning, just before he catches sight of a colorfully decorated dessert stall, tended by a woman who is dressed just as brightly. Behind her, faded posters of a relatively renowned singer in Seoul line the windows of an abandoned shop.

Minutes later, he’s turning the corner into a small off-road path that leads deeper into the neighborhood, lightly swinging a bright yellow plastic bag in one hand, courtesy of the dessert ahjumma. His headphones are now slipped over his head, the music already streaming through from his phone, the singer warbling about a lost love and a lifetime of regrets.

Baekhyun flips over to the next song. The first strain of Bach begins softly in his ears and he hums along to it.

It’s not long before he stops in front of a low-rise building, one that looks like it had been built in the sixties. As he approaches the entrance, an elderly lady who is sweeping the front porch notices him and pauses in her work for a moment to let him pass, smiling in recognition when he bows his head and greets her cheerfully.

Inside, there’s a reception area which also serves as a leisure space for the residents of the building. Lingering briefly in the doorway, Baekhyun pushes his hood back and unzips his sweatshirt. Then off come his headphones, and he lets them dangle loosely around the back of his neck as he glances around the room.

At this hour of the day, the place is surprisingly empty. Baekhyun notices the sleepy-looking attendant drooping in her seat nearby. An elderly man is busy trimming his fingernails, the sharp _clicks_ punctuating the peaceful atmosphere. Baekhyun quietly walks around, searching, until his eyes land on a familiar face.

There’s someone asleep on one of the chairs, a small thin book half-opened in their lap, while the old radio - a relic, in his opinion, but very fitting for the place - plays a familiar tune from where it sits on top of the old cupboard. The curtains are pulled back; the warm afternoon sun streams through the windows as music continues to trickle through the crackly fading static, the voice yearning for a love that’s as fragile and delicate as the soft petals of a budding rose in spring.

As Baekhyun approaches, his greeting ready on his lips, the person stirs awake and lets out a loud yawn. When she notices him, she raises her eyebrow, and sits up a little straighter. “Oh, it’s you.” The book in her lap slips to one side a little, teetering on the edge. “You’re late. Lunch was almost two hours ago.”

He rescues it before it can slip off her lap and land on the floor. “I’m sorry for making you wait, Grandmother.” He carefully places the book on the coffee table next to her, the front cover facing up to reveal an autobiography of a local poet. “What did you have for lunch?”

“Porridge. And something green and healthy and completely tasteless.” His grandmother makes a disgusted face. “Why were you late, boy?”

“Slept through my alarm and missed the bus,” Baekhyun replies unabashedly. “I got you something to make up for it, though.” With a grin, he places the plastic bag on the surface next to the book.

She eyes the bag curiously. “If that’s soju in there, you’re officially my favorite grandson.”

“It’s not, but I’m still your favorite either way,” Baekhyun tells her cheekily as he pulls out a small cardboard box from the bag, lifting the lid to reveal an assortment of colorful sweet rice-cakes inside, the reds and greens and yellows reminiscent of the street vendor earlier.

“That’s debatable,” she sniffs, but her eyes are crinkling around the edges with amusement. She picks out one of the rice cakes. “Although I suppose if you keep bringing me sweets, I can be persuaded.”

Baekhyun chuckles, placing the box next to the book. “Auntie would have a fit if she finds out I’ve been encouraging you to rebel.” He settles into the chair next to her.

She harrumphs. “She worries too much. Now, tell me, what have you been so busy with that you couldn’t visit your poor lonely grandmother recently? Is it because of that girl-- what’s her name? Taeyeon?”

He hasn’t been with Taeyeon since he dropped out of college, but he doesn’t correct her anyway. His grandmother hadn’t liked any of the girls he had dated before that, either. “I’ve been, ah, helping out a friend at the hospital.”

“At the hospital?” A look of alarm crosses her face.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Baekhyun assures her hurriedly. “It’s a volunteer program the hospital set up recently. I wasn’t planning to say yes, but… they weren’t getting enough responses, so I said I’d help.” He gives her a sheepish look. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Nonsense, boy. This is such a wonderful thing to do. What did your father say about it?”

“Ah….” Baekhyun rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, stalling as he tries to come up with an answer. The last time he had spoken to his father, it had been right around Seollal. Their conversation had lasted about four minutes, before his father had had to hang up to board his flight to Jakarta. “Dad’s been sort of busy,” he finally replies.

“Busy, always busy,” his grandmother mutters. “I have half a mind to pick up the phone and call that good-for-nothing son-in-law of mine.” Baekhyun hides his grin behind his hand. He knows that she wouldn’t actually do such a thing, but it amuses him to hear her say it anyway.

“What about you, Grandmother? What have you been doing lately?” He lets a teasing tone slip into his voice. “Are you still avoiding Jung Ahjussi? He confessed to me the last time I was here that he thought you were the most elegant lady he’d ever met.”

“Hush, you mischievous child. He’s a terribly inappropriate old man, and you shouldn’t be encouraging him,” she tells him sternly. “Now, tell me more about this volunteer business that you’ve gotten into.”

The hours fly by fast, and soon enough, it’s time for Baekhyun to leave. “Good riddance, you pesky boy. Now I can finally get back to my reading,” his grandmother grumbles, reaching for her unfinished book and placing it back in her lap. Baekhyun catches the humorous glint in her eye however and grins, bending down to give her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Can’t get rid of me that easily,” he says cheerfully. “I’ll be back again in a few days.”

“Make sure you bring me some damn soju too,” she adds, to the horror of the attendant who picks that very moment to wake up, and Baekhyun wisely makes his escape before she can include him in the stern lecture that she begins to give his grandmother.

 

****

~*~

Joonmyun gives him a sympathetic look when Baekhyun arrives at the hospital the next day, slightly out of breath and the straps of his bag wound around one hand as he juggles a fresh _hotteok_ with another. “Bad morning?” he asks as he lets Baekhyun into the backroom, who dumps his bag on the floor in relief before scribbling his name on the volunteer form that Joonmyun holds out to him.

“The perils of agreeing to an early shift,” Baekhyun grumbles as he hands the clipboard back in exchange for a name tag attached with a strap, the words ‘Volunteer’ printed in neat characters across the front. Because the hospital is located practically in the centre of Seoul, Baekhyun is forced to wake up before the crack of dawn just to catch the train into the city. “I hate the morning crowd.” He stores his messenger bag in the old, worn-out wooden cabinet where the volunteers are allowed to keep their things, and removes his hoodie, tugging it over his head before shoving it into the same space.

“Well, I’ve got something that should cheer you up,” Joonmyun says conspiratorially. “We’re supposed to get several new people coming here this week.”

Baekhyun adjusts his shirt collar over the strap of the name tag. “New volunteers?” He picks up his _hotteok_ from where he had left it on the bench, taking a bite out of it.

“Students from the nursing college.” Joonmyun corrects. “Dr. Lee managed to convince them to spare some hours here in exchange for some extra credit.”

“College students?” Baekhyun pauses in the midst of taking another bite. “They must be-- what? Eighteen years old? Nineteen?”

“Twenty, I think. I heard they’re seniors though.” Joonmyun sighs, looking almost wistful. “I hope they’re all pretty.”

Baekhyun finishes his food, and dumps the paper wrapper into the wastepaper basket, before turning his attention back to Joonmyun. “No one can be as pretty as you with a wig, Joonmyun-na,” he sing-songs, adding, “I still have that picture of you from our high school play stashed somewhere.”

“ _Baekhyun_ , you told me you _threw_ that away--”

“See you at lunch, hyung,” Baekhyun waves airily as he steps out of the room, while Joonmyun continues to make outraged noises behind him.

 

****

~*~

Mugunghwa Centre is, technically, a charity clinic-slash-hospital for underprivileged families. It takes up an entire building that’s located half-hidden behind the newer, fancier office buildings within the district of Jongno. All four stories of this building had once housed several rather questionable businesses, along with nightclubs and go-go bars that boasted the flashiest and best entertainment in the area. By the time the eighties rolled up, the authorities had cracked down on those businesses and closed down several of the clubs. The place had been left abandoned for more than a decade - until some wealthy benefactor had bought over it, refurbished everything, and allowed a small group of non-profit organizations to set up their hospital there.

The hospital has a trained staff on their payroll which includes two doctors, four nurses, the cleaning lady, the receptionist, and Joonmyun who handles the administrative tasks. Unfortunately, this also means that they’re severely understaffed most of the time, which is why there’s always a need for more volunteers. There are no shortage of people willing to give up a little of their free time to help out once or twice, but finding volunteers who can help out regularly _and_ selflessly.

When Joonmyun first approached Baekhyun to sign up as a volunteer, Baekhyun had been apprehensive. Sure, he’s volunteered before; in high school he had helped out at the local animal shelter a couple of times - but then again, he’s always liked animals and it wasn’t difficult to manage a couple of cats and dogs.

Dealing with people, however, is a whole different thing altogether. While Baekhyun thinks of himself as a sociable sort of person, spending his free time trying to cheer sick patients up had seemed out of his league.

(Joonmyun had pleaded and begged, before resorting to bribery in the form of _samgyeopsal_. Baekhyun had signed up the next day.)

Volunteering at Mugunghwa is different from any of the other hospitals. For one thing, most of the folks who show up at their doorstep are from the poorer parts of the city, places that are normally kept hidden away from the general public, treated like a blight on the glamorous sheen of the city. These people have been turned away from other establishments because they can’t afford to pay for their treatments, so there’s always a certain amount of mistrust and suspicion in their eyes when they first walk into the charity hospital.

The younger patients, however, are an entirely different matter. On the very first day when Baekhyun had stepped through the doors of the children’s ward, he hadn’t been greeted with the same sort of wariness he would have gotten from the other patients. Most of them had given him curious looks, while one or two completely ignored him. Breaking the ice had been easy, especially when he went over to each cot and presented each child with a variety of paper animals that he had spent the previous night folding. By the end of the visit, he had them gathered around him for an impromptu puppet show and was in the midst of mimicking a frog when Joonmyun walked into the room to be startled by Baekhyun’s loud _ribbettt_.

Today, he’s teaching them how to fold a lotus. It’s a simple thing, and he’s busy showing the little girl in the ankle cast from Ward 3A how to press down the sides of a piece of pink paper, when he hears the sound of the door opening and someone’s voice growing louder in as they enter the room.

“--and this is the playroom, where our younger patients spend their time under the supervision of our volunteers-- oh, let me introduce you to one of them now.”

Baekhyun looks up from the half-completed paper flower that he’s working on. “ ‘morning, Dr. Lee,” he calls out, grinning.

“Good morning, Baekhyun,” Dr. Lee greets him pleasantly. “I was hoping I’d run into you. I’d like you to meet one of my students.” The doctor steps into the room, followed by someone else.

At first glance, the newcomer seems younger than he had expected; soft-looking round cheeks, pouty lips which are turned down slightly; and remarkably pretty, from his hazel-shaped eyes to the delicate curve of his jaw. Baekhyun thinks that he’s perhaps no more than fifteen or sixteen years old - but then Dr. Lee introduces him as Kim Minseok, a final year nursing student.

“Minseok here is one of the brightest in my class,” Dr. Lee supplies proudly, and Baekhyun can see the embarrassed look on the young man’s face as he shakes his head in denial. “By the way,” the doctor adds, turning to Minseok, “Baekhyun just started here a few weeks ago, but he’s been a wonderful addition to our volunteer staff. He’s a big favorite with our patients, especially in the children’s ward. I’m hoping you can learn a lot from him.” This time, it’s Baekhyun who ends up blushing at the compliment.

“I hope you’ll take care of me then, Baekhyun-ssi,” Minseok tells Baekhyun. His voice is soft, smooth and almost mesmerizing, like his features.

“I’ll do my best,” Baekhyun replies, honestly. His cheeks feel still too warm for his liking, and long after the two of them have left the room, Baekhyun finds himself thinking of Minseok’s pretty eyes and honeyed voice for the rest of the morning.

 

****

~*~

On Wednesday, his aunt calls him twice and leaves him a message on his voicemail. Baekhyun lets it sit in his inbox for two hours while he works his way through Rachmaninov’s pieces, before he finally remembers the time and picks up his phone to reply with a text.

At ten minutes past noon, he arrives at the restaurant, striding into the posh, four-star place calmly. Baekhyun can feel the stares being directed his way; his old sweatshirt and ripped jeans a stark contrast to the expensive furnishings. He ignores them anyway, smiling at the manager at the reception desk in her crisp, neatly pressed suit. She raises her eyebrow at his appearance, before verifying his name against the list on the reservation sheet.

The table that his aunt has reserved is tucked away in a quiet corner of the restaurant, which, thankfully, offers a little privacy away from the judgmental patrons. When the waiter shows him to his seat, he greets his aunt politely. She looks up briefly to acknowledge his arrival before returning her attention to her smartphone, briskly responding to several messages with quick, sharp taps against the screen. His grandmother, on the other hand, beams at him from her seat. When he leans down to kiss her cheek in greeting, he gets two on both his cheeks in return.

When the food arrives, his aunt finally puts her phone down long enough to join in. The conversation is stilted, except for a brief period when she talks about his grandmother’s monthly health check, which had been the reason for the latter being in the city today.

“I’ve been thinking of getting someone to do house calls in the meantime, so you won’t have to travel to Seoul for your regular check-ups,” his aunt says, as Baekhyun is digging into his second bowl of rice. “I spoke to the hospital yesterday, asking if they had anyone to spare.”

“It’d better not be one of those new age crackpots from Ulsan again. The last one wanted me to start drinking _tea_ ,” his grandmother remarks in disgust.

“Tea is good for you, Mother,” his aunt says, sounding exasperated as she always does whenever she speaks to her mother. “And Dr. Choi was not a _new age crackpot_ , he graduated from one of the top medical universities in Seoul. He was just concerned about your health.”

“Well, you won’t catch me drinking that poison,” his grandmother snorts, before picking through one of the stir-fried dishes with her chopsticks. She ends up placing a generous-sized piece of cooked meat onto Baekhyun’s plate. “Here, boy, eat more. I swear, you’re as skinny as a stick these days, I can barely see any meat on you. What are you feeding him at home, Sunhee?”

“I’ve been eating out a lot, Grandmother,” Baekhyun says quickly before his aunt can remark on his current living situation. He moved out last winter but hasn't broken the news to his grandmother yet. “Between work and the other stuff, I haven’t had time to be home for dinner.”

“Other stuff-- you mean that volunteer thing you told me about? They’d better not be overworking you, boy.”

“You volunteered somewhere?” Sunhee looks at Baekhyun in surprise.

“I-- It’s nothing,” Baekhyun says hurriedly. “I-- uh, I’m helping out a friend. At the hospital.” The disappointment in his aunt’s face is as he had expected. He focuses his attention on the few grains of rice that’s stuck on the back of his hand, and picks them off carefully.

“Baekhyun,” she begins, sounding less like the aunt he had remembered buying him candy at the summer fair and more like the no-nonsense director of a finance firm, “You’re about to turn _twenty-four_. You need to start finding a job that’s more secure. Something that will actually provide you with a proper income.”

“I have that,” Baekhyun replies defensively. “The school--”

“That’s not enough,” his aunt says sharply. “What you’re doing isn’t stable. You’re still stuck in the same place, playing around and waiting for opportunities to land in your lap. That’s not how the real world works, and this volunteering business isn’t worth--”

His grandmother cuts in before Sunhee can finish her sentence. “It’s a noble thing, boy, and don’t you let anyone tell you otherwise,” she tells him, while shooting her daughter a stern side look.

“Mother--”

“Hush, he’s not one of your employees, Sunhee.” His grandmother turns to Baekhyun, and wags her finger at him. “Still, all of that volunteering doesn’t mean you should be neglecting your poor, lonely grandmother. I expect you to visit at least twice a week from now on, and no skipping in between.”

“I’ll come visit you on Mondays and Thursdays,” Baekhyun promises.

His grandmother beams at him. "Wonderful! Now, have some more chicken,” she says, placing the last piece of meat onto his plate as Sunhee sighs in resignation.

After lunch, Baekhyun walks them to the front of the restaurant. His aunt goes back to ignoring him, busy tapping away at her phone’s screen, while his grandmother chatters on about some variety show that she has started watching. When the parking valet pulls up with his aunt’s car, the sunlight bouncing off the brand-new paint of the latest Bentley model, Baekhyun helps his grandmother into her seat.

He’s about to close the door when she grips his hands between her own. “Do what makes you happy, Baekhyun-ah,” she tells him, quietly. “Don’t let anyone, especially your own family, tell you otherwise.”

Swallowing, his throat full of emotion, Baekhyun pats her hands instead and nods.

The walk back to the hospital is a short one. Some of the trees lining the streets are still bare, although a few are already bear the beginnings of spring, the buds slowly beginning to open up. It’s not long before he finally arrives at the building and Baekhyun pauses t the reception to ask for Joonmyun, who’s supposed to be keeping an eye on his things.

The receptionist informs him that Joonmyun is still on his lunch break. Inwardly grumbling about forgetful friends, Baekhyun convinces her to let him into the backroom to grab his things. When he steps into the room, he’s greeted by the sight of the new volunteer perched on a ladder, tinkering with one of the lights.

He watches the man for a few seconds, before clearing his suddenly dry throat. Loudly. “Minseok-ssi?”

Minseok peers over his shoulder at Baekhyun. “Baekhyun-ssi,” he greets, sounding surprised. “Are you supposed to be helping out today? I didn’t see your name on the volunteer roster.”

“I had an appointment nearby. I left my stuff here with Joonmyun, though,” Baekhyun explains. “Uh… what are _you_ doing?”

“The light wasn’t working, so I thought I’d check on it,” Minseok explains. “The nurses said that the maintenance guy hadn’t gotten around to fixing it yet.”

Baekhyun blinks. “Isn’t that a little dangerous?” Another thought occurs to him. “What if you get electrocuted?”

“It’s fine, I’ve done this before.” Baekhyun watches in fascination as he removes the tube. “Here, hand me that tube on the floor, over there,” he says, pointing it out. Baekhyun does as he asks, tilting his head back slightly to look up at Minseok as he passes him the new tube, in exchange for the faulty one.

“Thanks,” Minseok replies, his eyes lingering on Baekhyun for a moment, before he turns his attention back to the empty lightbox. He removes the wrapping around the tube, and deftly fits it into the slot. “Try testing it out now.”

Still feeling slightly apprehensive, Baekhyun takes the few steps back towards where the switch is located. He peeks over his shoulder, and flips the switch downwards.

Light floods the area, matching the bright grin on Minseok’s face. “There we go,” he says, sounding pleased before reattaching the cover to the lightbox.

Baekhyun watches him as he begins to climb down from the ladder. After a moment, he realizes what he’s doing and hurriedly turns around to head over to the cabinet, where Joonmyun would have kept his bag.

When he turns back around, Minseok’s kneeling on the ground, packing the tools that he had been using back a small workman’s kit. When he’s done, he gets up to his feet and gives Baekhyun a sidelong glance.

His eyes fall on Baekhyun’s bag. “Oh… are you heading somewhere now?”

Baekhyun nods. “Yea, work,” he says, and realizes that he sounds a bit like a country bumpkin. “I mean, I have to go to work.”

He’s not sure if he’s imagining the disappointment on Minseok’s face, but it’s gone the next instant when he straightens up, nodding. “I’ll be back tomorrow, though,” Baekhyun adds hurriedly. “I usually come by on Tuesdays and Fridays.” He tries to keep the eagerness out of his voice. “If you’re here, I mean. We’ll-- ah, we’ll see each other.”

Minseok folds the ladder and lifts it, effortlessly, placing it against the wall. The sleeves of his uniform stretch tightly against well-defined, muscular arms, and Baekhyun finds himself lingering on them.

“In that case, I’ll see you again tomorrow, Baekhyun-ssi,” Minseok says, and Baekhyun tears his gaze up towards his face. There’s an amused twinkle in his eyes. “And thanks for helping me with the lights.” He steps out of the room, leaving Baekhyun blushing.

He stands there for several long minutes, thinking of Minseok’s smile, of his arms, before he glances up towards the clock that’s hanging on the wall. He makes a strangled sound when he notices the time and quickly picks up his bag, before dashing out of the place to catch his train.

 

****

~*~

“Yo, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol said, poking his head through the open doorway, startling him back to the present, “did you want the large or the medium?” He has a phone in one hand and a menu for the pizza delivery place in another.

Baekhyun slips the photo he had been looking at behind one of his music sheets, his heartbeat thumping loudly in his ears. “Anything’s fine. Whatever you’re getting.” He pretends to shuffle through his sheets, fiddling with the knobs on his electronic keyboard. He hopes that Chanyeol will take the hint.

Ever the curious one, Chanyeol doesn’t leave but steps into the room instead, striding over towards where Baekhyun’s seated. “You practising for something? Which song?” He leans over Baekhyun’s shoulder, peering at the name above the rows of music notes. “ _Adanteh Largeh-toh_ , by George Pheraederi Han-Han--” he attempts to read out, butchering the name completely.

“It’s _George Frideric Handel_ , you uneducated peasant,” Baekhyun corrects, rolling his eyes as he attempts to shrug Chanyeol’s chin off his shoulder which he had conveniently used to rest his weight upon. “And that’s Adante _Larghetto_. Go bang on your drums or something.”

“Whatever,” Chanyeol tells him, but he doesn’t sound offended. “Come on, dude, play something for me.”

“Weren’t you getting food?” Baekhyun points out.

“Oh shi--” Chanyeol fumbles with the phone in his hand, before pressing it back against his ear. “Whoa, you still there? Yeah, sorry about that, just give me two large pizzas--” his voice trails off as he hurries out of the room.

Baekhyun carefully stores the photo in a tin box before hiding it at the back of his clothes drawer, and spends the rest of the evening practicing his music until his pizza turns cold.

 

****

~*~

Minseok shows up at the hospital twice a week, bringing with him the heavy scent of coffee beans and cinnamon. Baekhyun suffers the aroma for two hours before he breaks down from overwhelming curiosity and asks Minseok about it, one day, when they bump into each other in the backroom and Baekhyun catches the scent once more.

“I work part-time in a coffeehouse,” Minseok tells him when Baekhyun questions him about the smell. “I’ve been picking up a few extra shifts in the morning lately.”

Baekhyun pictures Minseok-the-barista in an apron, looking serious and concentrating hard as he works the coffee machine behind the counter. Somehow, his mouth goes a little dry. He shakes his head a little, as if trying to get rid of the image. “How do you cope with the hours from classes and working in a cafe _and_ still have the time to volunteer here, without breaking a sweat?”

“Well, I still sweat at the gym sometimes,” Minseok responds, seemingly amused.

Baekhyun stares at him for so long that Minseok begins to look slightly uncomfortable.

“To be honest, it’s not actually that impressiv--”

“Wait, no, _stop_ , don’t say anymore,” Baekhyun pleads. “I’ve decided that you, Kim Minseok, are definitely a superhero.”

Minseok, to his credit, doesn’t even laugh - but his lips curve slightly at the edges in a small semblance of a smile. Baekhyun thinks he could get used to the view.

 

****

~*~

As the weeks go by, Baekhyun learns several other things about Minseok. The first is that he’s two years older - which surprises Baekhyun at first, especially since Minseok is _still_ in college - until he discovers that Minseok had enlisted right after high school.

(He also learns that when Minseok has a gummy smile that’s two parts adorable and ten parts distracting, a fact that Baekhyun finds out when he catches Minseok laughing at something that Joonmyun says, causing him to nearly walk straight into a wall.)

Baekhyun doesn’t know when they begin to progress from casual conversations and brief nods as they pass each other in the hallway - but somehow he finds himself falling easily into a familiar routine, spending his breaks with Minseok whenever they get the chance, the politely phrased ‘Minseok-ssi’ replaced by ‘Minseok-hyung’ as Baekhyun drapes his arm around Minseok’s shoulder, attempting to peek at whatever it is that he’s concentrating on at that moment.

Minseok is a favorite amongst the patients. Unlike Baekhyun - who gets reprimanded by the head nurse on more than one occasion for accidentally raising his voice near the recovery ward – they warm up to Minseok’s quiet voice and calm demeanor easily. The younger patients seem to adore him too, especially since Minseok seems to have a gift for puffing up his cheeks to look like a hamster - which never fails to send the children into delighted giggles – and so Baekhyun ends up coercing Minseok into helping him in the children’s ward more regularly.

Eventually Joonmyun complains that he barely sees Baekhyun anymore and resorts to sending Baekhyun sad faces on Kakaotalk, which results in Baekhyun inviting him to join them for _tteokbokki_ at the van that’s parked behind the hospital.

“So this is where you’ve been going for breaks,” Joonmyun grumbles, as he shows up with the new volunteer in tow. Jongdae’s the same age as Baekhyun, with a quirky smile and friendly disposition. Baekhyun can tell that he’s going to be tons of fun to hang out with. “This is hardly nutritional, you know.”

Baekhyun glances at his plate, where he’s got several variations of food, all deep fried - and swimming in a plate of _tteokbokki_. “Fish cake is nutritional,” he tells Joonmyun loftily, before picking up a piece with his chopstick and popping it into his mouth. “Come on, Minseok-hyung, back me up here.” He can see Joonmyun’s eyebrows rise slightly as he glances between the two of them.

His eyebrows rise even higher when Minseok steals a piece of fish cake from Baekhyun’s plate for himself. “I hear it adds to one’s lifespan,” he quips, and Baekhyun giggles.

“Nothing adds life like deep fried food and sweet sauce,” Jongdae pipes up.

Joonmyun throws his hands up in the air, clearly disgusted by the lack of support. Baekhyun high-fives Jongdae in mock glee, distracting himself from the fact that Minseok’s now pressed closer against his side as he laughs along with the rest of them.

 

****

~*~

“Why do you do that?” Baekhyun asks, one day, when he happens to be in the same ward as Minseok, watching curiously as he moves around the ward, replacing the flowers that have begun to wilt in the vases. “It’s not exactly part of the job description.”

Minseok does that a lot. Baekhyun’s seen him around the wards, armed with flowers for the patients, leaving them either in the vases that are already on the side table next to their beds or placing small, neatly tied bunches of them there. It’s not unusual, however; Baekhyun has seen some of the other volunteers bringing flowers and candy to the kids, but he wants to find out why _Minseok_ does it when he’s already doing so many things around the place. To top it off, Dr. Lee has him assisting in the emergency room _and_ helping out in the recovery ward to relieve the burden from the other nurses, and Baekhyun wonders how he can do everything and still be able to smile easily, above it all.

(It bubbles beneath the surface, this curiosity he has about Minseok and everything he does and no matter how much he tries, he can’t seem to stop wanting to know more about Minseok.)

“They brighten up the room,” Minseok answers simply.

Baekhyun frowns. It’s not exactly the answer he’s hoping for. “Isn’t it expensive to keep buying them every day?” he presses.

“A friend of mine works as a florist, and the store belongs to his family,” Minseok explains. He selects several more stalks from where he had placed them earlier, on the side table. The buds are bright yellow, reminding Baekhyun of tiny, tiny sunflowers. “They’re leftovers from the large orders they get for wreaths or elaborate floral arrangements to be used at weddings, so they let me have some instead of throwing them away.” He begins to arrange them in another vase. “Anyway, it’s better than the few fake ones I’ve seen in some of the rooms here. Somehow, those don’t make people smile like the real ones do.”

_The paper crinkled beneath his fingertips as he carefully flipped the flower over, adding the finishing touches as he had been taught. It was a far cry from perfect; the petals were lopsided and the colors too bright and garish - but when he presented it during his lessons, Nam had declared that it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and proudly wore it in his shirt pocket the entire week._

Baekhyun watches as Minseok moves onto another vase, and silently disagrees with him.

 

****

~*~

“What song is that?”

Baekhyun glances up at Chanyeol, his chopsticks halfway to his mouth. “Huh?”

Chanyeol whistles a few notes. “That one,” he adds. “Just a couple of seconds ago you were humming it.” He taps his fingers on the table, adding his own rhythm to it. “I’ve heard it before, but I can’t quite figure out where.”

“Oh.” Baekhyun blinks. He hadn’t realized he had been humming that song, in particular. It had been years since he had attempted to sing it, his voice too young and inexperienced to hit the notes, and he recalls being frustrated at the way the notes ran too close to one another, the way it leaped from abrupt staccato to a slow, lilting chord progression, before switching back again. _It’s just a silly little thing I wrote, about falling in love,_ was what he was told when he had grumbled about the composer’s sense of humor.

He has been listening to the same tune a lot these days.

“It’s something my-- ah-- piano teacher used to sing,” he says, before returning his attention to his meal, feigning nonchalance.

Chanyeol whistles the tune again, repeating it a few more times. “It’s really catchy. Hey, do you think your teacher would mind if I used it for a new ad--”

“No,” Baekhyun says instantly.

“Aww, come on, help a starving artist out, would ya,” Chanyeol pleads.

“You’re the one getting paid to write peppy jingles for all these ad companies, not me,” Baekhyun retorts. Chanyeol whines about his inspiration slumps all the time, and while Baekhyun’s usually more than willing to help his friend out, he’s not eager to let him have this song.

Chanyeol gives him a sulky look. “Fine,” he grumbles, before leaning over to nick the piece of fried egg from Baekhyun’s bowl.

Baekhyun makes a grab for it. “Oi, _Chanyeol_ \--”

“Hey, you snooze, you lose,” his best friend tells him, taking a bite out of it spitefully.

Instead of a snippy comeback, Baekhyun blinks, startled. The meaning behind those words feel too close to the conversation he’s had with his aunt recently, and it stings to hear it from Chanyeol, even though it’s unintentional.

Trying not to let his emotions show on his face, Baekhyun makes an act of focusing on his meal, shoving as much rice and vegetables into his mouth as he can. He can feel Chanyeol’s eyes on him, however.

“Uh, so, uh--” Chanyeol says, hesitantly, after several minutes of awkward silence has passed. “What are your plans this Saturday?”

Baekhyun considers the question for a moment. His tutoring job ends before four in the afternoon, and he had been wrestling with the thought of working on some of his songs for the rest of the day. “Why?”

“Sehun and Jongin want to come over and hang out, so I thought we could pick up some booze and snacks,” Chanyeol says. “We could invite the guys from your volunteer place too, like Joonmyun-hyung. And what’s that guy’s name-- Minseo?”

“Minseok,” Baekhyun replies automatically, and blushes when Chanyeol throws him a knowing grin. “Stop looking at me like that, you asshole.”

“What? I was just thinking it’ll be fun to watch Joonmyun-hyung get drunk and dance on the table for us.” Chanyeol lets out a sudden burst of laughter. “Remember Minho-hyung’s party? When he had some girl's bra on his head? Man, those were good times.” Caught up in the memories of their college days, Chanyeol starts recounting the events and Baekhyun joins in, relieved at the change of topic.

****

~*~

Joonmyun declines the invitation, claiming that he has a hot date that night, although Baekhyun has his suspicions that he still recalls the events from Minho’s party and is just avoiding a potential repeat of that incident. Jongdae winks and says he’s already got plans, before hurrying over to help Joonmyun shift the supply boxes around.

Minseok, to his surprise, says yes. “Sure thing. Just give me the address, I’ll be there,” he tells Baekhyun, who had been expecting a different answer. Minseok always seems so _busy_ , after all; it didn’t seem like he had time for anything else. “Seven p.m., right?”

“Uh, yeah.” They exchange numbers, and Baekhyun texts Minseok the directions to his flat from the subway station.

Saturday evening finds him sitting in the middle of his bed, staring at his music sheets. He’s been glaring at the same chord progression in the past hour, unable to make sense of it, and he’s ready to give up. For some reason, he’s feeling edgy, unable to focus on anything today.

With a thought that, perhaps, he needs a little break, Baekhyun pushes himself off the bed and pads silently towards his clothes drawer. He opens the bottom drawer, reaching deep inside and pulls the metal box from where he had kept it.

Back on his bed, he sits cross-legged with the box opened in his lap and pulls out an old, faded picture from it. It’s of a young boy, his frame and height rather small for his age, his face bright and mischievous as he poses for a picture next to an older man in front of a performance poster. He studies the photo for a while, wondering what had happened to the man, whether he had returned to his passions or let it die away - like the boy had.

He thinks of how easier it had been when he had been ignorant, when his mind hadn’t been filled with fear and worry that he would be nothing but a memory too, like the people in the picture.

“I think we cleared the store down the road of all the cheap beer,” Chanyeol remarks as he stalks into the room, before Baekhyun can hide the photo. He flops onto the floor, right next to the bed, and groans. “Next time, _you_ can do the alcohol run with Sehun.” He sits right up again, looking at Baekhyun. “Hey, did you get the ice?”

“It’s-- ah-- it’s in the icebox,” Baekhyun tells him. He attempts to slip the photo back into the box, to hide it, but Chanyeol catches sight of the movement and plucks it out of his hands quickly.

“Whoa, who’s the squirt?” Chanyeol asks, peering at the image. “What were you, eight?” He snickers at his own joke, as Baekhyun glares at him. “Who’s the other guy?”

Baekhyun snatches it from his hands. “I was _fourteen_ when I took that picture. Quit making fun of my height, you dick,” he snaps, putting the photograph back into the box and closing the lid over it. “And don’t touch my stuff without asking first, geez.” His face is flaming as he shoves it under his pillow, resolving to hide it elsewhere when Chanyeol leaves the room.

Chanyeol holds his hands up. “Okay, _okay_ ,” he says, looking slightly chastised. “Sorry, man, I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

Scrubbing his face with his hands, Baekhyun holds back a sigh. He knows it’s not Chanyeol’s fault; while his best friend knows practically everything him, there are some things that Baekhyun prefers to keep to himself. “Look, it’s--it’s fine. Sorry. It’s been a bad day overall.”

At the kicked puppy-dog expression on Chanyeol’s face, Baekhyun punches him in the arm. “It’s fine, Chanyeollie.” He flashes him a smile, before changing the topic. “Did you get those fish snacks for Jongin too? He said he wanted to pick some up on the way here, but he always never brings enough.”

Chanyeol perks up at the mention of food, and nods eagerly. “I got enough for both him and Kyungsoo.”

“Are you sure you should be inviting Kyungsoo too?” Baekhyun asks drily. “The last time Jongin brought him along, he looked like he wanted to strangle everyone in sight.”

“Eh, that’s just Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol says, shrugging. “He’s just squinty, not murderous.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that, though,” Sehun interrupts, strolling casually into the room just then. “He’s in the middle of some big client project right now, so Jongin’s been calling me and whining about it every night.” He flops onto Baekhyun’s bed, landing on his stomach and causing his music sheets he had carefully arranged to flutter away. “Hey, Baek- _hyung_.” He snickers, as if he’s made a splendid joke.

“Why is everyone in my room?” Baekhyun asks out loud. “Also, get off my bed, you giant oversized brat.” He attempts to kick out at Sehun, who avoids it easily even though he’s taller and takes up more space than Baekhyun does. “Where are your manners?”

“Same place you left your height,” Sehun responds, and Baekhyun flings a pillow at his face, relishing in the shriek that Sehun emits as he falls off the bed onto Chanyeol, who’s too busy laughing to be of any use.

Minseok shows up a few minutes before seven, looking slightly rumpled and sweaty. Baekhyun lets him into the flat, giving him a questioning look.

“So when you said this place was a long walk from the subway line, you weren’t exactly kidding,” Minseok remarks, shrugging off his jacket, before pushing back the sleeves of his cardigan, revealing his arms. Baekhyun tries not to stare at the way his muscles flex at the movement.

He takes the jacket from Minseok, and hangs it in on the clothes stand behind the door before leading the way into the living room. “It’s cheap,” Baekhyun answers. “And there’s a bus that goes directly to Chanyeol’s parents’ home, and another one that goes straight to my grandmother’s place, so it works out pretty well for us.”

“Where do you work?” Minseok asks, looking curious. “I know Joonmyun’s mentioned it a couple of times, but I’ve never really asked.”

Baekhyun gives him the name of a music school in Seoul. “I provide piano lessons there,” he adds. “It’s not exactly a full-time gig, though. I’m sort of freelancing, so they call me in when they need the extra help.”

“Those deluded music students,” Sehun says, without looking up from where he’s sprawled on the couch, his legs tangled up with Chanyeol’s as he attempt to beat Chanyeol’s character in a fighting match on the gaming console. “It’s a wonder they can pass, hyung can’t even teach a dog to fetch.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “This rude kid here is Sehun, and the tall one over there is Chanyeol, my flatmate. Jongin and Kyungsoo should be here soon. Kyungsoo’s driving today, so they’re stuck in traffic.” Chanyeol glances up to wave and grin at Minseok, right before Sehun’s character knocks his out, resulting in his yell of dismay.

Jongin and Kyungsoo show up minutes later with boxes of fried chicken. Minseok gets introduced again, and then they settle down around the low dining table in the middle of the room, laying out the food. Sehun makes no effort to move from his spot next to Chanyeol on the couch, so Jongin takes the spot nearest to him. Baekhyun ends up on the bean bag next to Kyungsoo, across the table from where Minseok’s seated on the floor.

The atmosphere is lively and far from quiet, with Sehun and Jongin bickering over something insignificant and Baekhyun and Chanyeol throwing jibes at each other. Kyungsoo manages to strike up a conversation with Minseok, which surprises Baekhyun since he knows how hard it is for Kyungsoo to talk to new people. Eventually, as the food diminishes and empty cans of beer begin to line up along the side wall, the conversation shifts to movies, with Sehun and Jongin arguing over which superhero is better: Iron Man or Captain America.

“Obviously it’s Captain America,” Baekhyun tells the two of them, pointing a chicken wing at them. “I mean, he saved Seoul! Don’t forget that, you punks.”

“The Hulk,” Minseok responds in contrary, when they throw the question at him hoping to get him to back either side up. His grin is dazzling, almost cheeky as Sehun and Jongin groan at this response. “I’m more into scientists, not soldiers.”

Baekhyun laughs along with the others. “Aww, Minseokkie, I thought you’d pick the captain. Weren’t you in the army too?”

“That was, ah--” Minseok breaks off, looking flustered, while the others give him curious, interested looks. “It’s-- that’s different.” Baekhyun realizes, suddenly, that in all the time they’ve hung out together, Minseok’s never shared any stories of his experiences in the army.

“How was it like? Did they let you carry guns every day? Do you know how to maim a guy with your bare hands-- _ow!_ ” Chanyeol rubs his chest, glaring at Baekhyun. “Man, what the hell?”

“Why are you asking so much, you can’t even handle a wimpy punch,” Sehun drawls, but Baekhyun notices the way his eyes flick towards Baekhyun, before he turns his attention back on Chanyeol. “You can’t even beat _me_ at Mortal Kombat, I took you down five games in a row once, remember?”

As Chanyeol loudly begins to protest against Sehun’s claims, with Jongin joining in with Kyungsoo, siding with Sehun, Baekhyun gives Minseok a glance. He looks apprehensive, although it’s with none of the cornered look he had earlier - but it makes Baekhyun wonder, for a while, about Minseok’s past.

Somehow, later, Baekhyun finds himself sitting outside on the balcony with Minseok, a half-empty can of beer sitting on the ground between them. Inside the flat, Sehun is battling monsters with Jongin’s help on the gaming console, while Chanyeol has stepped out with Kyungsoo to restock their supply of booze.

The sky is clear tonight, filled with stars that are spread across its black canvas, reminding Baekhyun of the cherry blossoms that had dotted the path leading to his grandmother’s home. The air is still relatively cooler than it was earlier in the week, owing to the light April drizzle that morning. Baekhyun avoids the wet spots on the ground, settling on a dry patch. Minseok sits down next to him, pulling his knees up and tucking them against his chest.

They watch as the city pulses quietly in the distance, her lights bright and beautiful between the metal railings of the balcony. Baekhyun shares a bit of gossip about Joonmyun, whose lame attempts at flirting with the receptionist have been unsuccessful. In turn, Minseok repeats a joke he had picked up from his flatmate a few days ago, complete with a re-enactment of his flatmate’s weird facial expressions which ends up leaving them in stitches.

Soon enough, the conversation shifts to Minseok’s classes and he brings up the fact that he’s one of the few rare men in a course that’s traditionally female-dominated.

“My parents found it strange at first,” Minseok explains. “It took them a while to get used to it.” He snorts. “My sister still sends me bad nurse puns when she can find them on Naver though.”

“Did you always want to be a nurse, though?” Baekhyun wonders if Minseok had other dreams, other ambitions. He tries to imagine doing anything _but_ music, and nothing comes to mind.

“Well,” Minseok begins, an odd, wistful look on his face. “I wanted to be a singer when I was younger.”

“Really?” Baekhyun sits up a little straighter, looking at Minseok in surprise. “That’s what I wanted to be too.” He thinks of his dreams, of how he had practiced day and night so he could be better, be _someone_ , someone to make his parents proud. “Imagine that. What if we’d both ended up as singers? Do you think we would met eventually? Or even been friends?” The idea seems ridiculous to him now - after all, he’s missed his chance, ages ago - but he can’t help but wonder anyway.

Minseok hums. “We might have met under different circumstances,” he replies. “But I’m sure we would have been friends.” His eyes are on Baekhyun now, his gaze heavy. “You-- you have this way of leaving an impression. It’s not that easy to forget.”

Baekhyun lets himself lie back against the wall. He’s thankful for the darkness, for the fact that it’s hiding how red his cheeks probably are right now. His heart is beating a little too fast, and he’s aware of how close Minseok is, next to him. The air around them doesn’t feel as cold as it was earlier. “I’m pretty sure Chanyeol would agree with you there. He used to say I didn’t know how to shut up around people,” Baekhyun says, his laughter coming out sounding forced, even to his ears. “Although, if we’d both been ended up in the music industry together, we wouldn’t have to watch Chanyeol dance.” He winces, remembering Chanyeol’s attempt at busting a girl group dance move earlier, and failing horribly.

Minseok chuckles in response.

After a few minutes, Minseok speaks up again. “About the army,” Minseok begins, “I didn’t mean to sound weird about it. It’s just… I don’t talk about it because everyone expects to hear how great it was, or how well I did during that time.” He pauses, before letting out his breath. “I don’t like pretending or making up grand stories about it. Some of the other guys in my unit do that when they’re outside, and it… it doesn’t feel right.”

Baekhyun turns his head to gaze at Minseok. “What do you mean?” he asks, curious. “Everyone talks about how great the army is. My dad keeps saying he can’t wait for me to enlist so he can proudly tell his friends about it.” Baekhyun makes a face. “It’s sort of a stupid reason, though. We’re supposed to be learning to protect our country.”

Minseok is silent for a moment. “It’s not wrong to want to protect the place and people you care about. But… when I was there, I saw--” he stops, the outline of his throat visibly flexing as he swallows, before taking a deep breath, and continuing, “It’s easy, when you’re there long enough, to forget how the outside world works. The younger recruits get bullied, treated like they’re worthless unless they prove otherwise. If you’re slow, or not the best in your unit, you have to work twice as hard while dealing with some higher-ranked soldier who thinks you’re not doing enough. Everyone tries to prove their worth, mostly by forgetting their own self-worth.” Minseok sighs. “That’s not what they tell you, outside the army.”

Baekhyun tries to digest this. He knows he has a few more years left before he has to enlist - and while he’s accepted this fact like any able-bodied young man his age, he’s not exactly looking forward to it.

“Do you regret it?” Baekhyun asks hesitantly. “You enlisted right after high school, didn’t you?”

Minseok gives him a wry smile. “Second year of college. I was an architecture student.”

Baekhyun gives him a startled look. “Second year? Why did you leave, then?” he blurts out, without thinking.

He regrets his bluntness a moment later, when Minseok’s face takes on a pained expression, similar to the one he had on earlier when the others had pestered him about the army. “Hyung, I’m sorry-- I didn’t meant to be rude again--”

Minseok waves his apologies away, a small smile forming. “It’s fine.... maybe it’s good for me to talk about it.” He takes a deep breath. “I thought enlisting in the army would help me. To be a better person, somehow. College was… hard for me.” There’s a flicker of sadness on his face. “I thought the army would have the answers I needed… but I was wrong.”

Minseok goes on to talk about his return home after being discharged from the army. He had taken a look at the sketches he had made, the effort he had spent on his designs and buildings. The army had changed his perspective, somehow. He needed something else to keep him from losing his mind, like so many others who had enlisted as boys and left as broken men, and his drawings no longer gave him the same sense of fulfilment as they had before.

And so, instead of going back to art college, he had moved out of his parents’ home and enrolled in a nursing school instead. It hadn’t been his intention to pick the course, but when he thought about what he wanted to do for the rest of his life, it occurred to him that he wanted to help people, to take care of them. One of his college mates had suggested that Minseok should be a nurse - as a joke - but the idea had stuck.

“Sometimes I don’t… I don’t know what I’m doing,” Minseok confesses. “I wonder if I’m making the right choice. If I should have done something safer instead. Like being a salaryman, an office worker, like my dad.” Minseok’s eyes are filled with anxiety and worry. “What if I’m not meant to do this?”

Baekhyun thinks of how he had, not so long ago, felt the same uncertainty over his faith in people and of the choices that he had to make. That he _had_ made. Minseok’s words are almost an echo of his own fears, and he thinks it’s ironic that Minseok, whom he’s always looked up to and seen as someone without any flaws, would have any. 

Perhaps it’s fate, or perhaps it’s something else - but the fact that Minseok trusts Baekhyun enough to tell him these things as they makes Baekhyun feel strangely happy, somehow, and he moves without thinking. “Hyung,” Baekhyun begins, and he’s shifting closer, his hand reaching out to clasp Minseok’s shoulder, “Listen, you’re-- you’re awesome, okay? Everyone-- all the patients at the hospital keep talking about you every time I’m there, about how polite you are, how comfortable they feel around you, and how _safe_ they feel, having you take care of them. And I’ve seen how those kids act around you. They’re _crazy_ about you, like you’re their favorite hero or something.”

He’s got both hands on Minseok’s shoulders now, and he’s practically hovering over Minseok, out here on the tiny balcony outside Baekhyun’s flat along the fringes of the city, caught up in his words and emotions. “You are the best person I’ve ever met, inside _here_ ,” he continues, and his hand slides down, pressing his palm flat against Minseok’s chest; across where his heart is, “and if there’s anyone who’s kinder and better, I’d challenge them to prove it. Because no one is as wonderful as you.”

Minseok’s eyes are wide, and he’s staring at Baekhyun. After a moment, he glances down to where Baekhyun’s hand is pressed flat against on his chest.

Baekhyun snatches his hand back, cheeks growing hot. Clearing his throat, he tries to feign nonchalance. “Uhm… so, yeah. That’s what I think, anyway.” Avoiding Minseok’s eyes, he slumps back against the wall again, looking up towards the sky. The stars are twinkling now, almost as if in mirth at his predicament.

Minseok says nothing, but Baekhyun can feel his gaze on him. Suddenly he hears a low chuckle and he glances back at Minseok, just in time to see him lean closer to tweak Baekhyun’s nose gently.

“You know,” he says, as Baekhyun wrinkles his nose in response, caught off-guard by the oddly affectionate gesture, “You’re not so bad yourself, Baekhyun.” There’s the sound of the front door opening, and then Chanyeol’s voice is filling up the flat. Minseok gets up and holds out his hand to Baekhyun. “Let’s go back inside and see how drunk we can get Chanyeol this time.”

Baekhyun grabs his hand. As he’s being tugged to his feet, he hears Minseok say, quietly, “I’m not the only one the kids look up to, you know,” before releasing him and stepping back into the flat.

The warm feeling stays in his chest, and through the night; for once, Baekhyun doesn’t think it’s because of the alcohol.

 

****

~*~

The first week of May creeps up, the weather growing a little warmer as summer looms in the horizon.

Labor Weekend comes and goes, and Baekhyun finds himself spending the entire time sitting in front of the gaming console, thrashing Chanyeol’s ass at Mario Kart. His father leaves him two voicemails, his landlord reminds him that their rent is overdue, and Baekhyun adds five more blossoms to his growing collection.

May also brings about two birthdays: his own, and one of the other residents in his grandmother’s building. Baekhyun’s visit to his grandmother’s place coincides with the latter’s special day, and he shows up just as the residents are gathering at the common room to celebrate it. He’s instantly ushered towards where his grandmother is seated in her favorite chair with her attendant close by. As Baekhyun takes his place next to them, feeling bewildered by the number of people crowding into the usually quiet reception area, the guest of honor is wheeled into the room in a wheelchair by her daughter.

There’s plenty of food and snacks on the table nearby, including the customary seaweed soup. Someone lights up the candles on the birthday cake - there are two candles, a ‘9’ and a ‘0’ placed side by side on top of the cake. Mrs. Ahn, who’s birthday is being celebrated, makes a wish and puts out the flames enthusiastically, beaming while everyone claps.

Once the cake has been cut and passed around, everyone shuffles back to their favorite corners and seats. Baekhyun’s grandmother begins introducing him to a few of the other residents, whom some have never met him before.

“VOLUNTEER WORK?” One of them, a old man with a white haired comb-over, squints over the top of his glasses at Baekhyun. “WHERE DO YOU VOLUNTEER.”

Baekhyun answers him carefully, trying not to visibly wince as his eardrums take another beating.

“WHERE? SPEAK UP, KID, I CAN’T HEAR YOU.”

Someone thwaps him on the shoulder with a rolled up newspaper. “You forgot to wear your hearing aids again, you deaf _babo_.” The culprit is an elderly lady with purple-framed glasses, her hair deftly done up in a style that reminds Baekhyun of a beehive.

Baekhyun flashes her a grateful look, and repeats his answer to the old man, who has stuffed the hearing aids back into his ears. “Oh, very good, very good. They have a nice water fountain nearby,” is all he says in normal tones before turning his back on Baekhyun and ignoring him once more.

“Ah! He reminds me so much of _my_ grandson,” another resident remarks to someone next to her, within hearing distance of Baekhyun, the _clack-clack-clack_ of the knitting needles in her hands moving continuously. “Yisun’s in the _army_ , you know, _my_ dear, _talented_ Yisun. Such a true _patriot_ to our nation, just like his father.”

Baekhyun’s grandmother rolls her eyes, before leaning over to whisper at him. “That grandson of hers comes here every Friday, acting like he’s a high ranking general but I have it on good authority that he’s merely a lowly paid government clerk in Jongno-gu.” Baekhyun, in an attempt to hide his grin behind his hand, turns around and catches sight of some music show that’s being played on the television screen.

“That ain’t _real_ music,” one of the residents remarks. “All ‘em prancing around on camera like ‘at, dressed like a thug and screaming ‘em profanities.” He gives the screen, which is now showing two rappers sporting colorful dreadlocks and sleeveless, baggy shirts, a look of disdain. “When I was their age, I could sing ten times better than these punks.” A few of the other residents snicker at this; someone unleashes a mocking cackle from somewhere across the room. Immediately the elderly man attempts to get to his feet, hands shaking as he uses his cane as a lever, bristling with outrage. “Laugh all you want, I’ll prove it right now--”

“With what, your tuneless warbling? My grandson will never visit us again after hearing you sing,” Baekhyun’s grandmother interrupts him.

“I don’t see why he should, if all you do is sit around gossiping all day like a bunch 'a old hags here,” another resident points out.

“Who are you calling an old hag, Jung Mangwoo?” his grandmother retorts. “At least some of us still have all our hair.” The room erupts in chuckles, punctuated by a loud snicker from the elderly man who’s playing _go_ with the aforementioned Jung Mangwoo, who sputters in indignation.

Baekhyun finds himself enjoying the lively banter going about the room. It’s apparent that his grandmother is rather popular with the residents; there’s a constant flow of people stopping by her seat to greet her and have a few words with her. In turn, he finds himself being cooed at by the elderly residents, most of them close to his grandmother’s age - and occasionally being assessed by one or two who drop a few hints about their ‘granddaughter in the city who’s still single’ and ‘very pretty’. Thankfully, they soon move off when his grandmother shoos them away, claiming that anyone wanting him as their in-law would have to go through her for approval first.

Mid-way through listening to his grandmother grumbling about the rising prices of vegetables with another resident, Baekhyun becomes aware that the someone has changed the channel to something else. It’s now showing a local entertainment news report, which Baekhyun doesn’t pay it any mind to it at first, until a familiar name is catches his attention.

“ _\-- known as the popular songbird of the nineties will be returning to our soil once more. Having spent the last decade performing in various opera houses across Europe, he will be having his first, full length concert in the Olympic Stadium since his withdrawal from the public eye eleven years ago--_ ”

“Well, it’s about time he came home,” someone remarks. “I don’t know what he was thinking, leaving the country like that.”

“I heard it was a scandal,” another voice responds. “You know, he was always with that other man, that old schoolmate of his. Someone said they were definitely _more_ than just friendly with each other.”

“Disgusting--”

“Terrible, just terrible--”

Someone else snorts. “Who cares? It’s not like he has any fans left. Look at the kind of music they’re putting out these days - these young kids aren’t going to care about him--”

_I’m sorry, but I can’t do this anymore._

Someone places their hand on Baekhyun’s arm, and he starts, suddenly. He glances down to see that it’s his grandmother holding onto him, while giving him a worried look. “What’s wrong, boy?”

Baekhyun blinks, and the memory fades back into the recesses. “Nothing, Grandmother,” he says, letting his usual smile slip back onto his face, before patting her hand reassuringly. “Just thinking about work. They’ve asked me if I can take on a full-time role at the music school, with summer coming up.”

She grips his hand tightly, a proud look on her face. “That’s _wonderful_. I’m glad, you’ve been working so hard there all this time.” Her eyes are shiny, and Baekhyun’s never seen her look so happy before. “I’m so proud of you, boy.”

His chest tight with emotion, Baekhyun ducks his head, cheeks turning warm at the praise.

“It’s your birthday in a few days,” she remarks. “What would you like as a gift?”

Baekhyun gives her a surprised look. “It’s-- it’s … ah.. I haven’t really thought about that.”

His grandmother hums, looking thoughtful. “Here, help me back upstairs,” she says, gesturing at him. With the help of her attendant, Baekhyun leads his grandmother towards the elevators.

Once they’re in her apartment, she sends the attendant to the store nearby to pick up some groceries, and makes Baekhyun sit at the kitchen table, while she shuffles into her room to look for something, while he glances around the room.

It looks exactly as he remembers: from the old wooden kitchen table where his grandmother used to prepare food, to the row of round tin containers lining the sides of the countertop, the labels faded from the years of use. Even the table he’s sitting at seems untouched by the passings of time. His hand slides across the smooth surface, pausing at the small dent beneath his fingertips. He had been nine, he recalls, and terribly clumsy, which resulted in him tripping over his feet as he chased his brother into the kitchen. The cry he had emitted then startled his grandmother, and she had dropped the mixing bowl onto the table and rushed over to help him straight away. 

(It was also that day when she had sat down to teach him and his brother how to fold pieces of paper, shaping them into flowers and animals - perhaps as a means of keeping them occupied.)

He shakes himself out of his reverie, returning to the present when his grandmother finally shuffles out of her room slowly, holding onto her cane with one hand and something else in the other. She takes a seat next to him, and Baekhyun notices a plain white envelope that she’s holding onto. “Hold out your hands, boy.”

Obediently, he does as she says, his palms facing upwards.

“Here,” she places the envelope in his hands, “I’ve been saving this for a while.”

Curious, Baekhyun lets his fingers curl around it. It doesn’t feel like there’s anything inside, yet when he holds it up to peer at it closely, he can see the silhouette of something inside.

She waves her hands at him impatiently. “Don’t be slow, boy. Go on, open it up.”

He pulls open the flap, and draws out a cheque, written to his name. For several, long seconds, he stares at it. “What-- Grandmother--this is-- this is--”

“It’s not much, I know,” his grandmother replies, but her eyes are twinkling. “Enough for a new instrument, at least. Or a holiday with your friends, if you want.” She leans back against her wicker chair, smiling, as Baekhyun opens and closes his mouth, gaping like a goldfish.

“But--” He looks back down at the cheque. The amount of zeros is more than he can count on one hand. “Grandmother, I’m… I’m not sure why.”

“Why?” she, asks, sounding amused. “Why not? It’s my money, after all. What does an old woman like myself want with so much, anyway, if not to make her grandchildren happy.” He glances back up at her, in time to see the smile on her face slipping a little. There’s a tinge of sadness in her eyes. “Especially when she knows how they’ve been staying on their own, instead of with their own family.”

His eyes widen. “How did you know?”

“Your aunt told me last month that you moved out, and the reason for it. I had been hoping for you to come to me, except that you never said anything, just smiled and visited your old grandmother even though you were struggling inside.”

“I-- I didn’t want to worry you.” Baekhyun takes a deep breath. “I haven’t… I haven’t said anything to Dad yet.” He thinks of his father, and how he would react to Baekhyun’s news. “I don’t think he’ll handle it well.”

“He’ll just have to deal with it,” his grandmother responds firmly. “And if not, he’ll have to deal with _me_.” The words bring a smile to his face, and oddly enough, he feels comforted knowing that his grandmother hadn’t been angry.

Trying to hold back his emotions, he gets up and leans over, throwing his arms around her. “I love you, Grandmother. Thank you.”

He can feel her hands on his head, stroking his hair comfortingly. Her voice is soothing, although it catches a little, when she finally speaks. “You don’t have to do this alone, boy.”

 

****

~*~

Baekhyun's birthday passes uneventful and quiet. His grandmother calls him and gives him her blessings, reminding him to make a visit to the temple. His phone buzzes with messages from his friends, a few old schoolmates call him up with birthday wishes, and there’s a badly wrapped ‘Porn for Dummies’ on his bed when he gets back from dinner, courtesy of Sehun and Chanyeol.

His brother calls him, later that night, when Baekhyun is sitting on his bed, surrounded by tubes of glitter and paper. “Hyung,” Baekhyun greets, surprised. Since his brother had moved to the States, their calls had dwindled down an occasional message or emoticon on Kakaotalk after the first few months. “Isn’t it really early in the morning there?” He racks his brains, trying to remember the time difference between Seoul and San Diego.

“ _What, I can’t call my kid brother on his special day?_ ” His brother’s voice sounds tinny, almost distorted through the static. “ _How are things over there? Why aren’t you out with your friends?_ ”

“Chanyeol had to put in some extra hours at work, so it’s just me at home.” Baekhyun picks at the loose thread that’s sticking out from the hem of his shirt. “I had dinner with Dad earlier.” There had been three messages on his phone when he had wrapped up his tutoring sessions, and Baekhyun had ended up taking the train to Gimpo to meet up with his father.

His brother lets out a surprised sound. “ _That’s… that’s a first._ ” He pauses. “ _What did you talk about?_ ”

Baekhyun tries to recall the last time they had had a meal together with their dad around, and realizes that he can’t remember. “The same stuff he always says on the phone. How are things. Do I have a job now. When am I getting married.” He makes a sour expression at the last one, even though his brother can’t see it.

“ _Same old, huh?_ ” He hears the resigned sigh that his brother lets out. “ _Did he say how long he’ll be in the city?_ ”

“He had to take the red-eye to Frankfurt, so we didn’t spend much time at dinner.” He picks up one of the tubes of glitter, and uncaps it.

“ _I’m guessing he didn’t want Grandma yelling at him again_ ,” his brother says. “ _Speaking of which, how is she?_ ”

They talk a little while longer, until his brother realizes that he has to get ready for work. Just before he hangs up, he pauses, and adds, “ _Hey, if you need someone to talk to, give your big bro here a call. Even if it’s in the middle of the night, just call me, alright?_ ”

Baekhyun lets out a chuckle. “Noona’s going to be mad at me if I do that though.”

“ _Nah, she’ll understand. I married her, didn’t I? Anyway, I have to go, so take care of yourself, okay? And send Grandmother my love too._ ”

Before he can end the call, Baekhyun suddenly speaks up. “Hyung?”

“Yeah?”

“I--I miss you, by the way.”

A moment passes. _I miss you too, kid_.” There’s a note of affection in his tone. “ _I’ll...I’ll try to get some time off for Chuseok and fly back to Seoul for a week. We’ll have that family dinner, just us and Grandmother and Auntie. It’ll be like old times. What do you think?_ ”

Baekhyun swallows the emotion that’s threatening to rise in his throat. “Yeah, that’ll be great.” He closes his eyes, ignoring the way they’re beginning to smart a little. “I can’t wait for that.”

He lets himself believe that, just for a little while, long after his brother has hung up.

 

****

~*~

On Friday, Baekhyun finds Minseok in the recovery ward, peering intently at something on the windowsill. Upon taking several steps closers, he realizes that Minseok is frowning down at a small, short vase that’s been left on the sill. It’s filled with flowers, the colors bright and seemingly stark against the pale hues of a hospital.

“Hyung?” Baekhyun asks, hesitantly. “Is something wrong?”

Minseok points at the flowers. “This.” There’s a confused look on his face. “I’m sure this wasn’t here when I came by earlier.”

“Maybe someone visiting a patient left them here?”

“Perhaps,” Minseok replies, looking thoughtful now. “They look a lot like the ones I found in the other rooms last week.” He touches one of the petals, watching the way the glitter that’s been generously applied to the red paper sparkle in the little bit of sunlight streaming in. A small smile forms on his lips, and Baekhyun feels his breath catch a little. “They’re kind of pretty.”

The words are on the tip of his tongue. _Like you_ , he wants to utter.

Baekhyun clears his throat, and says, instead, “Joonmyun asked me to come get you. He needs extra help unpacking the supply boxes that were just dropped off.”

Minseok straightens up and faces Baekhyun. The soft look on his face is now replaced by his usual, serious one. “Sure, I’ll head there now.”

Joonmyun looks a little frazzled, surrounded by opened boxes, as he directs Jongdae, who is carrying an armful of the medical supplies. “Gauzes on the second shelf, and be careful with the iodine, that goes onto the bottom shelf,” he calls out, just as Baekhyun walks in with Minseok.

Between the four of them, they manage to put away everything. Thankful for their help, Joonmyun decides to treat them to lunch, ordering take-out from the Indian curry house down the street.

Lunch is a cheerful affair, filled with Jongdae making fun of Joonmyun for being a lightweight. Baekhyun is surprised to learn that they had gone out for drinks the night before along with Jongdae’s friends, which explains why Joonmyun looks less put-together today.

“By the way, I hear that it’s someone’s birthday this week,” Jongdae singsongs, a broad grin on his face as he address Baekhyun.

Baekhyun, who’s about to reach over for his third piece of _naan_ , stops and shoots Joonmyun an accusatory look. He gets a sheepish smile in return.

“It’s your birthday today?” Minseok sits up, looking surprised. “Why haven’t you mentioned it before?”

Baekhyun shakes his head. “My birthday was on Wednesday,” he replies, finally picking up the piece of _naan_ and dropping it into his takeaway container. Curry sloshes over the bread, soaking it. “It… it’s not a big deal. I didn’t want anyone to make a fuss over it.” He can feel Minseok’s eyes on him, but he focuses on eating his food.

“Oh no, no, you’re not getting out of this,” Jongdae says gleefully. “We’re going out to celebrate it tonight.” He casts a sly look over towards Joonmyun. “Maybe this time we can get you drunk enough to sing for us like Joonmyun-hyung did last night.”

Joonmyun drops his spoon, his face turning bright red.

“Did he turn into Beyonce or Gaga?” Baekhyun asks Jongdae cheekily. “He usually does a great Beyonce face after the fifth or sixth shot of booze.”

“He sang the theme song from Pokémon,” Jongdae confides, grinning broadly. “It was very moving.” He leans over, and adds, in a mock whisper close to Baekhyun’s ear. “I even have it on video. In _high-def_ \--”

“Guys,” Joonmyun begs, “stop making fun of me, _please_.”

Baekhyun grins as he watches Jongdae continue to poke fun at Joonmyun. He notices that Minseok has been silent the entire time, and lightly nudges him with his elbow. “Hyung, you’re joining us too, right?”

He’d been hoping for some more time with Minseok lately. Since their conversation on the balcony of Baekhyun’s flat, they haven’t had a chance to talk much. Minseok had been forced to cut down on his volunteer hours in order to study for his midterms. Without his presence, it felt as if the hours at the hospital were a little longer than usual.

Minseok turns his head slightly to face Baekhyun. “Are you sure you want me to be there?” he asks quietly, looking apprehensive. “It sounds to me like it’ll be fun with Jongdae… I’ll just be the boring guy there.”

“You’re not boring, Minseok-hyung,” Baekhyun says, frowning. “Since when have you ever been that? And, yeah, of course I want you there.” He tilts his head, trying to read Minseok’s expression, and decides to lighten the mood a little. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to miss the chance of hearing a Pokemon song, would you?”

“I think,” Joonmyun says, loudly, as Minseok lets out a sudden burst of laughter that has him clutching Baekhyun’s arm - a move that has Baekhyun grinning stupidly and his heart beating faster, “I really, _really_ need new friends.”

 

****

~*~

In the end, it’s Jongdae who ends up drunk and merry that night. Baekhyun watches in amusement as he attaches himself to Joonmyun like a leech, and sips from his bottle of beer.

“Hey, Jongdae,” he calls out, “how’s it going?”

“Baek! Baek-man, Baekster, _Baekhyun-ah_ ,” Jongdae sings out. “It’s _sooooo_ great. _So great_ ,” he hiccups, and then falls over his feet, pulling Joonmyun down onto the ground with him. His laughter rings clearly around them, filling up the section of the park that they’re sitting at in Hongdae.

“You’re kind of terrible, you know,” Minseok remarks, as Baekhyun watches Jongdae burst in giggles while Joonmyun continues to send Baekhyun dirty looks. “You completely set him up.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Baekhyun says tartly. “I’m not the one who insisted he could drink six shots of tequila in a row while balancing a lemon on his nose.”

“Well,” Minseok points out, “it was _your_ dare.”

Baekhyun laughs, and tips the bottle back, taking another sip. He’s feeling slightly buzzed, that warm feeling between being high and sober. It’s a nice feeling, he thinks.

The park is a lot less busier than it would be on a typical Friday night. There are people gathered together, scattered around in small clusters of their own, their excited chatter mixing with laughter and alcohol. On the other end of the park, a small crowd cheer on a street performer, while the peddlers are packing up their wares with the efficiency of those accustomed to this every day.

Pop music blares from the various shops that line one side of a street, while shoppers and tourists stroll past on the pathway that encircles the park. A few of them glance over at their tiny group curiously, but for most parts, they’re largely ignored.

Joonmyun manages to shove Jongdae off him, before standing up. “Alright, guys, I think I’m going to take him home now,” Joonmyun says. “I need him sober and ready to function at the hospital tomorrow morning.”

“Good luck with that,” Baekhyun tells him, cackling. “ _If_ he shows up. He’s going to end up with the mother of all hangovers when he wakes up.”

Joonmyun gives him another dirty look, before bending down to help Jongdae to his feet. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

“Ho _meeeeeee_ ,” Jongdae sings happily, and burps.

Joonmyun visibly sighs. “Do you need a ride?” he asks Baekhyun. “I could send you to your place, once I drop Jongdae off.”

Baekhyun glances at the time. It’s still early, and there’s still a full hour left before the last bus leaves. “Nah. I’ll hang around here longer.”

“Suit yourself,” Joonmyun says. “Minseok-hyung?”

“I’ll stay here with Baekhyun,” Minseok replies. “We’re on the same bus route anyway.”

They watch as Joonmyun struggles to half-drag, half carry Jongdae towards the direction of the alley where he’s parked his car. “He’s going to be so embarrassed tomorrow,” Baekhyun says gleefully, as he taps against his phone screen to stop his recording. “I’m keeping this for blackmail.”

Minseok shakes his head, but there’s an amused look on his face. “I don’t know whether to be amazed by the fact that you managed to record all of that without us knowing, or worried that you’re considering blackmailing him one day.”

Baekhyun grins, slipping his phone back into his pocket. He finishes off the rest of his beer, and leans back against the tree behind him.

A different song fills the air, as the street performer switches to a slower melody for the crowd. Baekhyun begins to hum along, mouthing the words, until he notices Minseok watching him intently.

“You have a nice voice,” Minseok says, when Baekhyun breaks off his singing, feeling embarrassed. “Did you ever audition anywhere?”

“Once,” Baekhyun admits. “I was twelve, I think. I got past the first round, but then when they asked me to sing - I panicked, and started on the wrong key.” He sighs. He can still remember the audition clearly, and the faces of the panel of judges as he failed.

“That’s a shame.” Minseok replies, softly..“Did you try again?”

Baekhyun shakes his head. “I-- I couldn’t. Being rejected like that hurt my pride. I even wanted to quit music school altogether, but then, my piano tutor reminded me that it wasn’t the end of the world.” He chuckles. “He said music was like breathing for people like him and me. That if he had a choice, he wouldn’t want to live a life where he didn’t have his piano--” Baekhyun stops talking, struck by the irony in his own words. “He convinced me that just because I had one bad experience, I didn’t have to give up on music entirely.”

Minseok doesn’t seem to have caught onto his lapse, and continues talking instead. “He sounds like a great person. You must have been close to him.”

“I was,” Baekhyun says, smiling a little. “He was… he was the reason I decided to switch to the piano instead.” He’s about to say something else, when suddenly, Minseok lets out a loud yawn.

“Sorry,” he apologies, looking mortified. “I’ve been staying up late the past couple of nights, drinking with my housemate and his friends. Post-exam celebrations, if you can call that.”

“Pfft,” Baekhyun scoffs, “admit it, you’re just an old man.”

“Old man, huh?” Minseok’s gazing a little too intently at Baekhyun. Suddenly he reaches up with one hand, plucking Baekhyun’s snapback from his head.

“What are you d--”

He gets to his feet and tugs the snapback on, turning his head this way and that as if he’s modeling. “There, not so old now, am I?”

Baekhyun laughs. “Sure, _ahjussi_ , whatever you say,” he replies, and reaches out to take it back. “Come on, give that back.”

Minseok makes no move to remove it. “I think I’ll keep this.” He flashes Baekhyun a sudden, mischievous grin. “You’re welcome to come and take it back, of course.” He takes a slow step back.

Baekhyun eyes him carefully, and then lunges to his feet, hands outreached - but Minseok dodges him easily.

“What, you can’t even take on an _old man_ like me?” Minseok teases. “I thought you said you had plenty of slick moves.”

“Hyung, come _on_ \--”

“So it’s _hyung_ now, huh?” Minseok holds his hands up, palms out. “Come on, let’s see what you’ve got, unless you were all talk--”

Baekhyun picks that moment to lunge forward again. “Ah-ha!” he shouts - before he realizes that he’s overestimated his distance. “Shi--”

He lands on top of Minseok, accidentally forcing him to fall back onto the ground. For a long moment, they stay like that, before Baekhyun begins to laugh. Eventually Minseok joins him, and their laughter fills up the area.

There are people nearby, some who are probably staring at them for being obnoxiously loud - even though it’s no different from the noise surrounding them; yet Baekhyun can’t bring himself to care. Not when he’s feeling like he’s on top of the world and Minseok is grinning and looking at him like he’s the best thing he’s ever seen.

After a while, they settle down. Minseok smirks, lifting up the snapback that’s still clutched between his fingers. “I still win, by the way,” he says smugly.

Baekhyun tries to frown at him, but fails - mostly because he’s feeling too happy, drunk on laughter rather than booze. “You _cheated_ , Minseokkie-hyung,” he accuses, but there’s no heat behind his words. “Fine, you can keep it.”

Minseok’s expression softens, and then he’s reaching out, placing the snapback on Baekhyun’s head. “Nah, you can have it back. It looks better on you anyway.” His hands seem to linger on the material for a moment, before he slides them down, brushing Baekhyun’s hair out of the way from where it’s fallen across the front of his face. Instinctively, Baekhyun closes his eyes.

Minseok’s hands feel really nice, he thinks, and leans into the touch.

“Baekhyun?” Minseok’s voice is soft, almost hesitant. “Can I-- can I confess something to you?”

Baekhyun hums in acknowledgement. “Mmkay.”

The same hands are now cupping the sides of his face, fingers caressing his cheeks slowly.

“Baekhyun... I like you.”

He opens his eyes, blinking in confusion - to find that Minseok’s face is close to his.

Minseok is looking at him now, the expression on his face similar to the one he had that night on Baekhyun’s balcony - except this time, there’s no Sehun and Jongin laughing in the background, no Chanyeol and Kyungsoo about to show up with booze. This time, they’re alone, in this part of the park, and Minseok is looking up at Baekhyun with so much open affection, apprehension--

“Can I kiss you?” Minseok asks, and Baekhyun swallows, not daring to say anything, just looking at Minseok, looking at his eyes, the way they’re gazing down at him; his lips, close, so close, moving closer--

Baekhyun’s eyes widen in shock, and he flinches back roughly. “I--I can’t, hyung,” he chokes out. “I’m sorry.” He realizes that they’re still pressed close against each other, that Minseok’s still lying underneath him, pinned down by Baekhyun. He scrambles to sit upright and get to his feet.

“Wait, Baekhyun,” Minseok says, sounding confused as he follows suit, getting up once Baekhyun’s off him. “Wait, I don’t understand, I thought that you were-- I thought you like me too.” He reaches out for Baekhyun again, but Baekhyun takes a step back, shaking his head.

_I can’t love you like you want me to._

Baekhyun takes a deep breath. It’s too much, the way Minseok is looking at him now; the expression familiar, the same expression he’s seen before, except it had been on someone else’s face. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, trying to keep his voice steady, even though his heart is racing, and there’s a voice in his head that’s yelling at him to stop talking. “I can’t-- I can’t do this. I--I don’t. I’m… not.” He closes his eyes, telling himself that he’s doing the right thing.

_Broken flowers, scattered along the table._

_Tears that didn’t belong to him, spilling over scars that had barely healed._

The images replay in his mind, and he opens his mouth, uttering, without thinking- “I’m not… like that. I’m sorry.”

_I can’t love you._

Minseok lets his hand drop, and takes a step back, clearing his throat. He turns around, avoiding Baekhyun’s eyes. “We should start heading back,” he says, his voice sounding too calm, too cool for the heat that’s pooling in Baekhyun’s cheeks. “We’ll miss the last bus.”

 

****

~*~

Baekhyun spends the next day moping around his bedroom, watching back-to-back episodes of Naruto on his laptop while lying on the floor, his blanket draped over his shoulders as he stuffs his face with snacks.

He’s plowing through his fourth bag of rice crackers when Chanyeol enters his room unannounced. Chanyeol stops in front of him, peering down at Baekhyun.

“Is this another crisis?” he asks, looking concerned. “Do I need to haul out the emergency supply of Chocopie?”

Baekhyun burrows deeper under his blankets, crunching on another piece of cracker miserably.

Chanyeol, to his credit, not only digs out the box of chocolate buns, but even shoves two bottles of soda into the freezer for a short period - “because warm cola tastes like horse piss” - before joining Baekhyun under the blanket, wordlessly passing over one of the bottles.

Somewhere between the third and fourth season of the show, Baekhyun lets out a sigh. “Minseok confessed to me last night. That… that he likes me.”

Chanyeol lowers the bottle he had been about to lift to his mouth. “Oh.” He blinks, and then blurts out. “Wait, Minseok is gay?”

Baekhyun throws him a scornful look. “ _That’s_ what you’re focusing on?”

“Sorry,” Chanyeol says, hurriedly. “It’s just that… he joined the army, you know. And he sat there talking about sports and football with Jongin and whether he thought AOA or A-Pink was hotter, like any one of those average guys at work do. I didn’t think he was into men.” He sends Baekhyun a curious glance. “But wait, why are you sitting here, being miserable? I thought you like him, too.” He pauses. “Uh, you _do_ like him, don’t you?”

Hugging his pillow tightly against his chest, Baekhyun plants his face into the soft pillow. “I don’t… know,” he replies, miserably.

There’s a short moment of silence. “What do you mean, you don’t know?” Chanyeol sounds confused. “You’re always talking about how great he is, and how much you hang out with him at the hospital.”

”We were just-- I thought-- we’re just friends.”

“You turned _me_ down to go drinking with him for your birthday. Me! Your best friend!”

“Joonmyun and Jongdae were there too,” Baekhyun says defensively, lifting his head to look at Chanyeol. “Besides, you wanted to go to the haunted house, which you know I hate - how is that even celebrating _my_ birthday?”

“I had free tickets which were a perfectly legit birthday gift,” Chanyeol retorts. “We’re getting off-point, anyway. Why are you pretending you’re not crazy about him? I’ve seen how you talk about him, like, you have this-- this _face_ ,” he makes a circular motion with one hand in front of Baekhyun’s eyes-- “the kind you get when you see a puppy. Like, I dunno, _happy_.” Chanyeol lowers his arm. “You never looked like that back in college, when you dated anyone else.”

“That was different.” The girls he had been with... he had liked all of them, had been fond of all of them, but somehow those relationships had never worked out. It had never occurred to him why, not until last winter when his father had called him and told him that he had been thinking of retiring from his job, once Baekhyun got married.

“ _Maybe I’ll have a couple of grandkids to take care of, once I’m back, eh?_ ” he had joked, and Baekhyun closed his eyes and laughed, dry and bitter, because he knew he could never give his father that.

Biting his lower lip now, Baekhyun stays silent.

Chanyeol lets out a sigh. “But you told him, right?” he asks. “I mean, he wouldn’t have made that move if you hadn’t mentioned that you’re kinda into boys too.”

Baekhyun averts his eyes. “Not… exactly.” He tells Chanyeol, in short, awkward sentences, what he had said after Minseok’s confession. “It didn’t-- I couldn’t tell him--”

“So you let him think you didn’t want to be with him because you _weren’t_ gay?” Chanyeol’s expression is incredulous. “Dude… _why_?”

“I don’t know!” Baekhyun thumps his head back onto the floor, wincing at the sudden pain from the impact. “Ow.”

“Man, you’re so dumb,” Chanyeol says, and Baekhyun wants to say, no, it’s Chanyeol who’s dumb, he’s always been the dumb one between the both of them - except that Baekhyun’s forehead hurts and Chanyeol’s actually right, for once.

“‘m not,” Baekhyun mutters anyway, just to be contrary.

“Yes, you are.” His best friend lets out a loud, exasperated noise. “Man, all you’ve ever done since meeting Minseok was talk about him. All the time. It’s like, that period when you went crazy for that girl group back in college and you wouldn’t shut up about them for months. And now that you found a guy who’s great and also into guys and likes _you_ \- the first thing you do is avoid him.” Chanyeol lets out a scoff. “Not exactly a bright move.”

“But-- what if he--” Baekhyun swallows, remembering the way Minseok had looked at him. It was uncanny, how nearly a decade later, some expressions could seem so alike, even on a different face. “What if he decides that it’s a mistake? That I’m a mistake? What if he leaves me?”

Chanyeol stares at him. “You haven’t even done anything with him yet, let alone dated him. How can you predict what’s going to happen if you keep running away all the time?”

Baekhyun stiffens, and then gets up, pushing the blanket off his shoulders.

“Shit,” he hears. “Shit, Baekhyun, I didn’t mean it like that--”

Baekhyun opens the door, and stands there, waiting. After a few moments, Chanyeol climbs out from underneath the blankets and gets to his feet. He stares at Baekhyun for a long time, before letting his shoulders sag, letting his feet drag him towards the door. Just as he’s about to step through the doorway, he pauses.

“For what it’s worth, I think you should at least talk to Minseok. Tell him the truth, at least.”

When he finally leaves, Baekhyun closes the door behind him and locks it - before turning around to slump back against it.

He scrubs his palms at his face, feeling frustrated. He’s never actually fought with Chanyeol like this. They’ve had their spats before, but those have always been easily brushed off. This time, he can feel Chanyeol’s agitation keenly.

It’s a mirror of the frustration he’s currently directing at himself, because he knows that Chanyeol is right. Baekhyun’s attraction to Minseok has grown into something that’s more than just platonic friendship or brotherly affection. The hours at the hospital never seem long enough, and he always feels a sense of regret when he has to leave for his tutoring session in the afternoon, while Minseok continues on. On the days when he’s not volunteering, he ends up sending Minseok multiple messages and emoticons just to pass the time.

He likes Minseok, likes him in the way that he wants to spend all day letting Minseok kiss him senseless again - like the other night -- but he’s afraid. When Minseok had confessed to him; when he had been about to kiss him; Baekhyun had panicked and done the first thing he could think of: he had run away.

He’s never felt regret so painfully as he does now. How would Minseok react if Baekhyun admitted he had been wrong? The expression on Minseok’s face, the way he had completely shut down, after Baekhyun’s rejection, told him that he wouldn’t take it very well.

Baekhyun slides down onto the floor, feeling exhausted, worn out from from the rush of emotions, and puts his head in his hands. For the first time in a long time, since he had stood in that dressing room and watched the person he cared so much for break down, so many years ago, he lets himself cry.

 

****

~*~

“Where’s Yang-ssi?” Baekhyun asks, in surprise, when instead of his grandmother’s attendant, it’s his grandmother who opens the door for him instead.

“I gave her the day off for her granddaughter’s wedding,” she replies, turning back around and taking small, careful steps back towards into the living room. Baekhyun quickly shoves his bag and jacket into the hall closet, and hurries over to help her as she slowly lowers herself onto her favorite wicker chair. “The girl’s getting married in Busan today.”

“Yang-ssi has a granddaughter?” Baekhyun pictures the serious, stone-faced attendant with a younger version of herself, and then he does a double-take. “Yang-ssi’s married??”

His grandmother sniffs at him. “Don’t be rude, boy, or I’m letting her know she doesn’t need to bring back those snacks from Busan that you like so much.”

Baekhyun chuckles, settling into the seat next to her. There’s a framed photo on the table next to her. He picks it up, feeling curious. “I haven’t seen this photo before,” he remarks, studying the black and white image of a young woman, presumably in her twenties, arm in arm with another young man beneath a cherry blossom tree. “Was this you, Grandmother?”

“I found that the other day, when I was clearing out one of the old boxes,” his grandmother responds, looking wistful. “That was the day we finally went out on a date, you know. Your grandfather had been trying to ask permission to take me out for ages.” She lets out a melancholy sigh, which was unlike her. “I ignored him for months, but in the end, he still managed to win my heart.”

Baekhyun glances back down at the photo. His grandmother had a serene smile on her face, while his grandfather was looking at her with so much affection that anyone could see how much in love he was.

It makes him wonder if he’ll ever find someone who will look at him the same way.

He’s still lost in his thoughts when his grandmother speaks up. “You’re not usually this quiet.” Her tone is oddly contemplative. “What’s happened, boy?”

He glances up, startled. “N-nothing. Nothing happened.” He flashes her his widest smile, hoping he doesn’t look maniacal.

She raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t push him any further.

After a few moments, she speaks up again. “Mrs. Ahn sent up a basket of baked sweet potatoes this morning. They’re in the kitchen, if you’re hungry.” She eyes him. “Here, why don’t you make a pot of tea to share with your grandmother? There’s a new tin of tea next to the potatoes.”

“I thought you hated tea,” Baekhyun teases lightly, as he stands up, but he moves towards the kitchen anyway.

“Don’t be smart,” she retorts. “It’s _imported_ tea, I’m not about to waste it.” He chuckles under his breath, before entering the kitchen to prepare the tea.

When the kettle begins to boil, the spout whistling merrily, he wraps his finger around the wooden handle and lifts the entire thing up from the top of the gas stove. It’s an old kettle - one his grandmother has been using ever since he can remember, because she insists that it’s more reliable than any of the newer, more advanced types that his aunt has offered to replace it with. Slowly, he carries it over to the kitchen table, and begins to pour the boiling water into the teapot that he’s prepared.

“I had new curtains put up in the kitchen. What do you think of them?” he hears her say. Baekhyun looks up at the windows in front of him, the curtains framing them and tied back to keep them from ruffling about in the breeze.

“They’re nice.” Small vases, no bigger than his hand, are placed in a row along the windowsill. They’re filled with stalks of paper flowers in various colors.

“I remember when your grandfather would sit by that window, working on his plants. That was all he did, pruning them, trimming them; always pruning and trimming. Felt like he cared more for them than anything else.”

Baekhyun smiles at the memory. “He always said that the sunlight was best here. He wouldn’t let me near them at all.” Baekhyun carefully arranges the teapot onto a tray, along with two teacups, before lifting it up and stepping back into the living room.

“He was passionate about those damn flowers,” his grandmother agrees, as he places the tray onto the coffee table next to her.

He’s about to pour the tea from the pot, when she smacks him on the hand, lightly. “ _Patience_. You need to let the leaves steep a little longer.”

“Sorry,” Baekhyun responds, rubbing against the spot where it smarts a little from the slap.

His grandmother sniffs at him, before settling back down. A few minutes later, she deems the tea ready and gestures at Baekhyun to pour it into the cups, accepting one of them from him when he’s done.

She takes a slow sip, visibly relaxing. “Strange thing was, when he started to forget everything, the flowers were the one thing that stayed on his mind. He never stopped working on them - even until the end.” She looks at Baekhyun, thoughtful. “He was passionate about them the same way you were about your music, once.”

Baekhyun lets out a low chuckle as he lifts his own cup. It’s jasmine tea, the kind he likes, and he deeply inhales the fragrance. “That’s not exactly true,” he says, once he’s taken a sip, and places the cup back down. “I’m still playing the piano now. I teach little brats to be aspiring musicians.”

“You wanted to be a singer so earnestly. I remember you running around the house, when your aunt sent you and your brother here for the weekend, singing at every opportunity you had. You always talked about your favorite singers, half of which I could never remember their names, with so much _passion_ , even at such a young age - up until a point where it all suddenly stopped.” She gives him a long, searching look. “What happened to you to make you give it all up?”

Baekhyun starts, his arm accidentally bumping against the table and rattling the china.

He had been six when his mother had started a new job that required her to move to another country. With his father constantly traveling for work, it had fallen to his aunt to help care for Baekhyun and his brother, and she had turned to her grandparents to care for them when she had to work long hours or during the weekends. Baekhyun hadn’t minded, then, especially when his grandparents were tolerant of two highly excitable, energetic boys running through their home.

As he grew older, the visits became less frequent, but he remembers still coming by every month to visit his grandparents, bringing with him his music so he could practice at their place.

Until the incident.

Blinking to keep the tears back, Baekhyun whispers, “I-- I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Sometimes I wish that you hadn’t ended up taking after your grandfather.” The sadness in his grandmother’s voice makes his chest tighten. He’s rarely heard her sound like that, ever since his grandfather’s funeral years ago. “That man was so stubborn, keeping everything to himself just so we wouldn’t know the kind of trouble he was in, even up till the end.”

Baekhyun swallows, not trusting himself to speak.

Warm hands, the skin weathered rough from age, cover his own. “Just like him,” she says, fondly. “Baekhyun, you can’t let anyone else determine how you should live your life. I’ve said this before. You need to be the one to make your own decisions, and that includes deciding whether something that’s affecting the thing that you love so dearly is worth keeping silent over.”

Baekhyun closes his eyes. Moments pass, before he finally lets out his breath, and breaks his silence, after so many years.

 

Hyun was an up and coming star; the ‘Nightingale of Seoul’, as the media liked to call him. He was a trained tenor, still in his early twenties but already the darling of the classical world. There were even talks of him crossing over into pop, melding opera with modern pop in a new album. Baekhyun had loved his voice, had listened to all his performances that he could find online. He would beg his mother and his aunt to take him to his shows, any show, that had him singing, and at any chance he could get, he sang the same songs that Hyun sang, even though his voice cracked at the higher notes and he couldn’t pronounce the foreign words. In the end, he had applied, and was accepted, in a music school - the same music school that Hyun had graduated from.

That was when he met Nam. Baekhyun had been twelve.

Nam-seonsaengnim was close to Hyun’s age. He was Baekhyun’s piano tutor in the school. He had been in Hyun’s graduating year, a fact that had Baekhyun pestering him for every scrap of information he could get about his idol, much to Nam’s amusement. He had humored Baekhyun, but admitted that they hadn’t been in touch for years, and Hyun probably had forgotten who he was by now.

Later, Baekhyun would discover that Nam had been more than just Hyun’s classmate; he’d been his lover, even during that time when he was Baekhyun’s tutor.

The incident had been out of his control, but Baekhyun couldn’t stop thinking it was his fault. He had been wanted so badly to see the singer, who would be just across the street from him for a fansigning. He had begged for his tutor to finish early, so that they could make it in time for the event. Nam had been reluctant at first, but Baekhyun had pleaded, even resorted to pouting, which somehow always had an effect on the tutor. It worked; Nam had relented - on the condition that he accompany Baekhyun, since he felt some form of responsibility for his favorite student.

If Baekhyun hadn’t insisted; if he hadn’t begged to go to the fansign, then Nam wouldn’t have gotten hurt.

It had been all over the news: a crazed anti-fan attacking a singer with a weapon. Someone had pushed him aside, just in time; and had put up his hands to protect the singer, only to be slashed by the knife-wielding attacker instead .

There had been no name provided of the good samaritan who had been injured, but Baekhyun knew who he was. He had been fourteen, then, as he stood next to his tutor’s hospital bed, crying because it wasn’t fair; how a good, kind person like him, out of a selfless act, would suffer this way.

Even worse, then, was what happened after. Nam had taken some time off to recover, while Baekhyun had tried to focus on his piano lessons under the tutelage of someone else. Two months passed, with no word on whether he would return to teaching - until Baekhyun had heard the news that the singer would be performing again, this time in a small private showcase downtown.

Determined to see his idol up-close, this time without involving anyone else, Baekhyun snuck into the venue through the back door, left open by some careless worker. He was making his way past the dressing rooms when he heard approaching voices. In a panic, he had slipped into one of the rooms, and hidden inside the wardrobe.

He had watched, in shock, through the small narrow gap of the cupboard door as Hyun had entered the room, dragging someone in with him, closing the door behind them and locking it.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do this anymore,” he had said, his voice filled with pain. “The media, the fans - they’ll never let it die down. They won’t leave us alone if they find out.”

“But you-- you said you didn’t care about that. Don’t you remember our promise when we said we would do this together?” The voice was familiar, and it took Baekhyun a moment to realize, to his shock, who it was. A scarf was wrapped around the lower part of his face, covering his nose and mouth, and he reached up with gloved hands to unwind it - revealing the ugly scar that cut a jagged line across his cheeks and mouth. There was no mistaking the features, however.

“This is the reason, isn’t it?” Nam demanded, gesturing towards his face. “This is why you won’t answer my calls anymore, why you won’t talk to me. You can’t… you can’t stand looking at this horrible face anymore, right?” His voice broke.

The other man took a step back, looking as if he had been slapped. “It’s not the reason,” he protested. “Nam-- that’s not why-- look, they offered me a contract. But the label, they said I had to change my image. Be more appealing to the audience. Be--” he broke off, sounding anguished. “We can’t be popular _and_ be gay in this business, you know that.”

“Popular,” Nam replied, slowly. “That’s what it is, then.” He let out a bitter laugh. “Forgive me for mistaking the years we spent together; for all those times when you said you would never leave me and that you would stay by my side, no matter what. Had I known you just wanted to be _popular_ \--”

“Nam--”

Nam held up his hand. “No, let me finish.” He closed his eyes. “I love you so much. I gave up everything to leave my family so I could move here with you. I spent everyday hoping that one day, I can finally stop hiding who I am, and that you would too.” He opened his eyes, staring straight at his lover. “I was wrong, wasn’t I? You never-- you never really loved me.”

“I’m sorry.” Hyun let his shoulders slump, looking defeated. “Nam--I--”

A quiet knock interrupted him. “Hyun-ssi? Your manager is looking for you, you’re due onstage in ten minutes.”

“I’ll be there shortly,” Hyun called out.

He waited until the footsteps died away, before turning back towards Nam. “I have to go.” He’s about to turn around, when Nam speaks up again.

“Wait.” He took a step closer to Hyun, and held out the bouquet of flowers that he had been clutching earlier. “These… these are for you.” His voice grew softer, although it was full of resigned sadness. “I wanted to give them to you after the show but I -- I don’t think I’ll be staying to watch you anymore.”

Hyun glanced down at the flowers, a variety of emotions flickering across his face, before he finally raised his head to look at Nam, his eyes filled with a regret. “Thank you for these, but I-I’m afraid I can’t accept them anymore.” His voice shakes a little, but he takes a deep breath, before continuing. “I can’t love you like you want me to.”

He turned around and unlocked the door, before quietly leaving the room.

Nam stood there for a long time, his body frozen in the act of presenting the flowers to Hyun. Suddenly he whirled around and flung the bouquet across the room with such undisguised fury, shocking Baekhyun.

The flowers collided against the mirror, before falling onto the dressing table. Broken petals lay scattered everywhere, the color reminding Baekhyun of the blood that had covered Nam’s face the day he had saved Hyun.

And as Baekhyun watched, Nam finally broke, sliding to his knees and burying his face in his hands, before letting out a broken-hearted sob that wrenched Baekhyun’s heart painfully.

 

His grandmother sighs when Baekhyun finishes, his eyes wet again from recalling the story. “So that’s what happened to that poor boy.” She shakes his head. “I remember when your mother called me to tell me that you had run away from home. And even when you showed up here, you locked yourself in the spare room and refused to leave it.”

“For years, all I wanted was to be like Hyun. He was my hero, my idol, but he wasn’t a decent person.” Baekhyun wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand. “I couldn’t even tell anyone. Nam found out that I had been there, and he was so terrified that I would spill his secret. _Their_ secret.” He makes a disgusted noise. Even after the way Nam had been dumped, and cast aside like that - he still wanted to protect Hyun. “He begged me to never tell anyone. He begged me to do it for him, if not for Hyun.” Baekhyun can feel himself growing angry. “I could never understand why.”

“When you get to be my age, boy, you learn that there are the best, and the worst kind of people in this world.” She reaches over, placing her hand over his, causing him to stop and look up at her. “I’m sorry you had to endure that alone. I wish you had at least come to me then.” She pats his hand, giving him a sympathetic look.

He lets himself be comforted by this. It had been strange to finally tell his side of the story, and to his grandmother, instead of anyone else. Yet he couldn’t imagine anyone being able to understand him the way she did.

“And now I know why you suddenly pretended to develop an interest in girls later on-- oh, don’t give me _that_ look. I knew it right from the start when you started picking out my Sunday hats for me to wear.”

Baekhyun can feel his face turning hot. “I thought it was safer to hide it. I didn’t… I was so afraid of being found out.” He looks down at his hands shamefacedly. “None of those relationships ever lasted, though.”

“That’s why you moved out , isn’t it? Sunhee told me that your father had sent her a folder full of potential marriage prospects to show you.”

“I didn’t want to. Auntie kept pestering me and Dad kept calling me to ask about it. I just couldn’t take it any longer.” He recalls the shocked look on his aunt’s face when he stood in front of her, handing the folder back as he informed her, without thinking, that he was moving out.

She gives him a long, searching look. “Remember when I told you that you don’t have to do this alone? We’re your _family_ , boy. Even your aunt cares about you, which is hard to believe seeing as she’s the one pressuring you to change, but the other day she told me that she blames herself for you leaving.” His grandmother snorts. “That girl is just as lousy with words as you are, I swear.”

Baekhyun’s sombre mood lifts a little at her words. He had felt the gap between him and his aunt keenly, and the way she had turned cold towards him had made him feel like his fears had been justified. While he doubts he can move back home as easily as he had left it, the knowledge that his aunt doesn’t hate him makes him feel like he can still come back when he wants.

It reminds him of his brother’s words, and his promise for Chuseok. Somehow, the future seems a little less bleak.

He stays a while longer, talking to his grandmother about things he’d never expected to talk about. He tells her about the hospital, and the people he’s met, about Joonmyun and Jongdae and Minseok, people whom he’s come to grow closer with over the past months.

When it’s time for him to leave, she insists on walking him to the door. He pulls his jacket on before reaching back into the hall closet to grab his bag.

On a sudden impulse, he turns around to give her a grateful hug. “Thank you for listening to me, Grandmother.” It’s like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. It had been strange to think that after all this time, of all the people he would end up confiding in would be his grandmother. Not Chanyeol, not Joonmyun, or even his brother, whom he had been so close to.

It doesn’t fix the problems he has now, but at least, he feels better than he has been for a while.

“What about now?” his grandmother asks him while he wrestles with the wires on his headphones, which had gotten tangled up when he had shoved them into his bag. “Do you have someone you like? A nice boy, perhaps? I hope you’re being safe.”

“ _Grandmother_.” Baekhyun drops the headphones, and covers his eyes with his hands, embarrassed. “I’m not having this conversation with you, _please_.” He hears her chuckling.

After a few seconds, he lowers his hands, sighing. “Yes, I like someone. But...” At the questioning look she gives him, he adds, “I might have lost my chance with him.”

“Hmm.” She looks thoughtful. “Did he tell you that he doesn’t feel the same way?”

Baekhyun recalls Minseok’s words that night, and the rather compromising position they had been in - and decides not to mention it to his grandmother. “He, ah, he confessed his feelings to me.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Then I don’t see the problem here.”

“It’s complicated.”

“What’s so complicated about it?” she demands. “You like this boy, he likes you, simple as that. Your grandfather spent two years trying to court me, and it took _my_ mother a long time before she finally agreed to let me go out with him, and almost as long for me to admit my feelings.” She pauses, and then, in a less brusque tone, she adds, “More importantly, does he make you happy?”

He thinks about Minseok: the way he smiles, his expression lighting up whenever he sees Baekhyun, the way his hands move expressively when he’s explaining something, caught up in his enthusiasm. He thinks about how Minseok makes the hours go by fast, and how, at the end of every shift, he looks forward to the next one so he can see Minseok again.

He can’t stop the smile on his face. “He does, Grandmother.” Then he remembers the way Minseok’s eyes had been filled with hurt, that night. “But I-- I’m afraid. What if what happened to Nam happens to me too?”

She sighs. “If this boy was willing to come out and tell you he likes you, then his feelings are likely to be genuine. But if that’s what’s holding you back, then you should tell him. Tell him why you’re afraid. No one likes being kept in the dark, especially when there’s a chance for them to be happy.”

Feeling chastised, Baekhyun considers her words. In a way, they resemble Chanyeol’s advice when he had told Baekhyun off for not being honest with Minseok. “You’re-- you’re right. I’ll… I’ll talk to him. When I see him.” He’s afraid of taking that step, but he knows that he can’t always be afraid his entire life, not when he has a shot at happiness.

“Good.” She wags her finger in Baekhyun’s face, “But if you’re planning on marrying this boy, I intend to have a nice long chat with him first.”

She chuckles as Baekhyun almost drops his headphones again, blushing.

 

****

~*~

Baekhyun is in one of the wards when he hears someone clearing his throat behind him.

“Sorry, I’ll be done in a moment,” he says, not turning around as he arranges the flowers in the vase carefully.

“I guess now I know who’s been putting out those flowers around here,” a familiar voice speaks up, startling him.

Baekhyun turns around to find that Minseok’s in the doorway, leaning against the sides. His arms are crossed over his chest, and he’s looking at the vase that had previously been filled with wilting flowers, now replaced with the glitter-covered, paper versions that Baekhyun had brought with him.

“Hyung,” he utters. “Uh-- hi.” He blinks, remembering that it’s not Minseok’s shift today. “What are you-- ah-- why are you here? I thought you’re not on shift till tomorrow?”

“I came here to find you,” he replies, taking a few steps closer. He stops midway, glancing at the beds nearby where some of the patients are either giving them curious looks, or pretending that they’re not trying to listen in to their conversation. “Ah-- listen, can we talk? Maybe somewhere other than this place?” He gives the other people in the room a sidelong glance.

Baekhyun checks the time. It’s still mid-morning, and while normally that’s when they have a lot of patients coming in, today’s been a relatively quiet day. He considers telling Minseok that he can’t, but he remembers his conversation with his grandmother, and the resolution that he made. Furthermore, he’s curious to know what Minseok has to say. “I’ll-- I’ll let Joonmyun know that I’ll be taking a break,” he says. “We can head over to the park.”

A few minutes later, Baekhyun steps out of the hospital to find Minseok lingering in the back alley. They walk along the street, not saying anything for a while. Minseok stops to buy a cup of coffee at one of the stands, ordering one for Baekhyun as well.

While waiting for their drinks, Baekhyun checks his phone for messages. There’s one from Chanyeol, asking him out for lunch. They had made up last night, with Baekhyun handing him a box of rice crackers as a peace offering. Chanyeol had accepted the snacks gracefully, and then thrown his arms around Baekhyun in relief and almost smothering him with a pillow before they had moved on to trying beat each other in Mario Kart. Baekhyun had just been thankful that he hadn’t driven his best friend away.

He glances at Minseok, who’s still queuing up at the stand and quickly sends back a reply. _With Minseok now. Will send for the cavalry if needed._

Chanyeol replies instantly, the thumbs-up emoticon huge against his screen. Seconds later, another message pops up. _Fighting! Go get ‘em, buddy_.

Feeling motivated, even though his heart is beating fast, Baekhyun pockets his phone just as Minseok returns with the drinks.

At the park, they settle down on one of the benches. For a few minutes, they sip at their coffee, watching an old man scattering bird food all around him as a few birds begin to swoop down, eager for a free treat. Nearby, the other benches are occupied by office workers grabbing a cigarette break, chatting loudly about work.

Baekhyun bites his lower lip. He’s not used to this sort of awkward tension between him and Minseok, and he wants to say something - anything, in fact, to get rid of it - but his own words are stuck in his throat.

A breeze sweeps in from nowhere, and ruffles Baekhyun’s hair, causing a lock of it to fall across his face. Annoyed, he attempts to flick it out of his eyes and ends up accidentally swatting his own forehead in the process.

“Stupid wind,” Baekhyun grumbles, half to himself.

Somehow, that seems to break the awkward silence. Minseok chuckles, which makes Baekhyun end up grinning at his reaction, even though his skin is smarting and he’s feeling slightly embarrassed.

“So,” Minseok begins. “About the flowers.” He gives Baekhyun a sidelong glance. “I’m just curious, though. Why use paper?”

Baekhyun hesitates. Trying to think of a way to explain things, he takes a moment to sip at his coffee, trying not to make a face at the bitter taste.

“Because no one expects it,” Baekhyun finally replies. “Everyone assumes that real flowers are the only things you should give someone when you want them to cheer up. But the problem is, they don’t last. They wilt, and turn brown and ugly - and because they’re no longer beautiful, they’re thrown away.” He thinks about Nam, and how he had been discarded, so easily. “The same way that people get abandoned, or thrown away when they’re no longer worth having around.”

After a moment’s pause, he adds, “The flowers that I leave around will never wilt, or die.”

Minseok blinks. “That’s… that’s an interesting perspective.” He tilts his head as he glances at Baekhyun. “And the glitter?”

“Oh,” Baekhyun lets out a surprised laugh, “I like adding a little more sparkle to them, just to brighten them up.” He sees the way Minseok smiling in amusement, and feels his cheeks grow warm. “It’s… ah, it’s silly. Forget it.”

“It’s not.” Minseok looks thoughtful. “If it were, you wouldn’t have looked so sad when you were telling me about them.”

His eyes growing wide, Baekhyun can only stare at Minseok wordlessly.

Minseok continues on, sounding contemplative. “I’m pretty sure we’re not that different. I like putting real flowers up because they’re pretty, but more than that, there’s a simple honesty in its purpose: they make people smile.” He pauses, briefly “But I see your point too. I know… I know what’s it’s like to feel abandoned, like everyone you know has left you, or cast you aside.”

Biting his lower lip, Minseok looks away from Baekhyun. “I haven’t been fully honest with you, Baekhyun.” He swallows, looking nervous for the first time ever since Baekhyun had met him.

“What do you mean?” Baekhyun asks in confusion.

“There was a boy in one of my classes,” Minseok begins, “back in college. We used to sit next to each other, and got along really well.” Minseok sighs. “It wasn’t until I started wondering what it’ll be like to kiss him, to have him kiss me. To… do other things. Things that… that I was told wasn’t allowed.” He shakes his head. “Twenty years of my life thinking I was straight, and then I figure it out just when I’m in the middle of college.”

He pauses to drink his coffee, before continuing. “That’s why I enlisted. I didn’t want to be gay. I thought that the army would change it, would get rid of it. I mean, everyone I knew who had been in the army talked about how it made them ‘real men’.” He swallows. “I wanted to be that. But when I went there, I found that there were other guys, other boys who were just fresh from high school, guys who were older than me, who were all just as repressed. All of them were like me, trying to find a way to get rid of this… _confusion_.”

“But--” Baekhyun recalls that night, when Minseok had talked about his army experience, and how he had enlisted to find the answers to his problems, only to be disappointed. “You didn’t… in the end--”

“If they find out that you’re gay, they treat you for ‘mental illness’. That’s the official statement. But no one talks about the bullying. The way the other officers treat you, or even worse, _use_ you.” Minseok closes his eyes. “I kept it away from everyone, but some of the other boys… they weren’t so lucky.”

Baekhyun listens, horrified. He had heard some rumors, but like most of his friends, had dismissed them. “What happened to them?”

Minseok shakes his head. “Discharged early. Sent for rehabilitation. The worst were the ones who were gay, who pretended to be straight, who scorned and mistreated the other guys who were outed.” He lets out a dry, bitter laugh. “I was lucky, since I was assigned to a smaller unit, away from the bigger, more active camps. When I was discharged from the army, I told myself that I didn’t want to be like them.That I wasn’t like them.”

He leans over, resting his arms on his knees. “Damn. I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone that much before.” He glances up at Baekhyun, and there’s a small, rueful smile on his face. “I don’t know what it is about you that makes me tell you so many personal things about my life.”

Baekhyun looks away, feeling his cheeks grow hot. “That’s probably the caffeine talking.” He glances at the cup in his hands. “By the way, while we’re on the subject of coffee, how can you _drink_ this stuff, Minseokkie? it tastes foul--” he breaks off, noticing the look on Minseok’s face. “What?”

“You-- ah… you called me ‘Minseokkie’,” he says. “You did that, once, when… when we were at your place. And… and in Hongdae, the other night.”

“Oh.” It’s Baekhyun’s turn to blush, remembering how Minseok had almost kissed him. “About that night...”

“I told you I liked you because I thought you felt the same way about me too,” Minseok says. “You kept wanting to spend all your breaks with me. You kept following me around the hospital, asking me all sorts of questions even though half of them didn’t make sense. And there were times when you would stare at me, when you thought I wasn’t paying attention. You’ve never look at anyone else the same way, after all.”

He takes a deep breath, before continuing. “At first I thought I was wrong - I mean, we barely knew each other, and I thought I was making assumptions based on the few times we talked and spent time at the hospital. I figured that I couldn’t be that lucky, meeting someone like you. I wasn’t sure at first; maybe you didn’t like guys, or if you did, you probably had someone else - but when I asked Kyungsoo about it, he said that I was wrong on both counts.”

Baekhyun almost drops his cup of coffee. “Kyungsoo? He told you?” He blinks, confused. “Wait, how? What?”

“He works in the same building where my coffeehouse is. He came in on one of the days after we met at your flat.” Minseok gives him a weird look. “Didn’t he mention anything to you? I thought you were all good friends.”

“Kyungsoo is Chanyeol and Sehun’s friend. We’re not that close, and I’m pretty sure he wants to eats puppies for breakfast,” Baekhyun tells him, feeling dazed because if Minseok had known all this while, then perhaps he had been wrong. That he hadn’t given Minseok the impression that he hadn’t been interested because he wasn’t gay.

“Puppies,” Minseok repeats, looking slightly concerned.

“Uh… nevermind,” Baekhyun says hurriedly. “Don’t tell him that, though,” he adds. “I mean, he’s a really nice guy. I think.” He furrows his brows. “Except for that one time when he showed us a judo move--”

“Baekhyun,” Minseok interrupts again, looked pained. “I didn’t come all the way here to talk about Kyungsoo.”

“Right, sorry,” Baekhyun says sheepishly.

“I think I’m doing a bad job of this,” Minseok admits, sighing. “I wanted to come down here and clear things up. And… and to apologize in person for making a mistake. For making a move on you like that.” He rubs the back of his neck, looking awkward. “I’m sorry--”

“Minseok,” Baekhyun interrupts, the sound of his heartbeat thumping loudly in his ears. “You-- you weren’t wrong.”

Minseok stops talking. “What-- what do you mean by that?”

Baekhyun’s sure that he’s never felt so afraid, so _nervous_ , in his life - but he’s also certain that if he doesn’t say something now, he’ll lose his chance - and Minseok. He takes a deep breath, before releasing it. “I like you.”

All around them, it’s almost as if the world has stopped, all the workers and birds and the old man in shabby clothes have faded away, leaving only the two of them on the bench, with Minseok staring back at Baekhyun, his eyes wide, his lips parted as he struggles with this revelation.

Baekhyun holds his breath, feeling full of hope.

“Do you mean that?” Minseok asks, finally. He still looks apprehensive, but there’s so much raw, open hope in his voice that Baekhyun can’t help releasing his breath, feeling relieved. “This isn’t… this isn’t one of your jokes, is it?”

Baekhyun shakes his head, sucking on his lower lip. “I _do_ like you.” He lets out a laugh, suddenly. “I really do.” Saying the words out loud, telling Minseok how he feels; it’s a lot less scarier than he had anticipated. “I was… I was scared before. Because… because it’s not-- I’m not good with relationships. I was always afraid that everyone would end up leaving me in the end.” Just like Hyun had left Nam. “I didn’t want to lose you that way. Your friendship means so much to me… and more than that, you--you mean a lot to me.”

The apprehension on Minseok’s face melts away as he suddenly breaks out into that familiar gummy smile that makes Baekhyun’s heart do flips. He reaches out to place his hands over Baekhyun’s.

“I don’t know what the future will be like,” Minseok admits, his thumb still stroking the back of Baekhyun’s hand with the kind of tenderness that matches his voice. “I’m not the sort to make promises, and I can’t pretend that it scares me sometimes, knowing that things can change. But… but I can tell you this: I won’t abandon you.”

Then, his smile softens. It’s the same smile one that Baekhyun had seen before; that night under the stars; the time when he had almost kissed Baekhyun. His grip on Baekhyun’s hands grow firm. “I want to be with you, for as long as I can.”

Baekhyun feels his breath catch. It’s more than he had hoped for, and somehow, looking at Minseok’s face, hearing his words, Baekhyun believes him.

He’s still afraid, but at the same time, deep down inside, he knows that no matter what, he’ll have Minseok by his side, holding him.

They end up holding hands as they walk back to the hospital together. It’s a little odd at first, having Minseok’s hand clasped in his and knowing that it’s more than just a friendly gesture, but Baekhyun can’t stop the huge grin on his face even though his cheeks stay warm the entire way. He’s also pleased to find that Minseok’s just as affected; he’s sneaking glances at Baekhyun, his lips twitching as if he’s holding back a broad smile, his cheeks looking bright pink and flushed.

When they finally reach the hospital, the two of them linger a little while longer in the quiet street behind the building. Baekhyun’s reluctant to let go of Minseok’s hand, but he knows he has to. He has a few more hours to the end of his shift, and Minseok has to head to his part-time job soon.

“Dinner,” Minseok says, suddenly. “I mean, tonight, if you can… if you want… ah--” he breaks off, looking nervous once again, his usual cool and sure composure in shambles. “Ah-- Baekhyun--”

“Okay,” Baekhyun says, feeling oddly calm on the outside, even though he’s giddy with happiness in the inside, “I’ll go out with you.”

Minseok smiles at him, looking relieved and Baekhyun finds himself staring at the way his lips curve slightly this way, warm and lovely from this view. Suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to touch them, and knowing that he can, that he’s _allowed_ to now - Baekhyun lifts his hand, brushing his fingers across them gently.

And this time, it’s Baekhyun who tilts his head and leans in, closing the distance between them to finally, _finally_ let their lips meet in a long-awaited kiss.

 

****

~*~

“I like that song,” Minseok says suddenly, startling Baekhyun one day when he’s bent over his music sheets, scribbling furiously. “It doesn’t sound familiar though. What’s it called?”

They’re sitting side by side on Baekhyun’s bed. Minseok has his college textbook, which he been poring over, open in his lap. He’s wearing a baggy tank top today, owing to the weather turning warmer outside this late in May, which does nothing to hide his arms.

(The first time Baekhyun had seen Minseok shirtless, the well-defined muscles that he had kept hidden underneath his long sweaters and uniforms finally revealed, it had taken him two seconds before deciding that, yes, he would very much like to be held down by those arms indeed.)

Baekhyun blinks and clears his throat, trying not to let his train of thought be derailed by the sight. “It’s a composition that I’ve been working on with Chanyeol lately,” he explains. “He thinks that it’ll be a hit. He says he’s going to try to show it to his boss, see if they can use it for one of the singers they’ve been planning to debut.”

Minseok closes the book and puts it aside, before sitting up a little to look at Baekhyun. “That’s good news, though, isn’t it?” he asks.

“There’s a chance they’ll still reject it,” Baekhyun says. “But it’s worth a shot. His boss says that if they’re successful, they might want us to work on more songs.” He shrugs. “It’s not the dream I always wanted, but it’s close. I guess I never thought I’d be in the background _composing_ music, you know, instead of being onstage singing.”

To his surprise, Minseok leans over and rests his palm on Baekhyun’s cheek, gently. “Hey,” he says, his voice soft. “It’s just a matter of time before someone sees how talented you are. And if anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you.”

Blushing under Minseok’s gaze, Baekhyun turns his head away, feeling embarrassed. He reaches out to pick up his music sheets again, intending to focus on something else other than the way his heartbeat is picking up again, as it always does when Minseok looks at him that way.

Minseok, apparently, takes the opportunity to let his hands slide along his hips, tugging him close until he ends up sitting in Minseok’s lap, the sheet clutched in one hand. “Hyung, I’m still working on this song,” Baekhyun complains, tilting his head back to glare at Minseok.

“Mm-hmm, if you say so.” Minseok’s finger caress the spot beneath his chin. “You’re welcome to keep going.” He leans over, and presses a soft kiss, and then another, along the edges of Baekhyun’s jaw. “In the meantime, I’ll just entertain myself.”

“ _Hyung_ \--” Baekhyun almost bites down on this tongue when Minseok’s hand, that had been tracing long, slow lines along his hips, slips under his shirt and begins to rub the edge of the waistband around his shorts. “That’s not fair… didn’t you say you had to--had to study earlier?”

“Well I _was_ ,” Minseok murmurs, his lips brushing trails along the edge of Baekhyun’s ear - Baekhyun should _never_ have let Minseok discover that it’s his weak spot, now that he unfairly uses the knowledge to his advantage - “but since I thought of taking a break...” his voice trails off, followed by his teeth grazing the tip of the ear lightly.

Baekhyun gives up and turns around, pushing Minseok down onto the mattress.

Grinning up at Baekhyun now, Minseok watches as Baekhyun straddles his hips. His hands have made their way under Baekhyun’s t-shirt, sliding along his back, the flat of his palm warm and firm against the base of his spine. Baekhyun releases out a sudden gasp when Minseok wraps one leg around Baekhyun’s and effectively rolls him over, flipping their positions.

“It’s cute how you think you’re stronger than me,” Minseok tells him, a smirk on his face, this time looking down at Baekhyun.

“I was _distracted_ ,” Baekhyun says grumpily, struggling a little against Minseok’s weight pressing down on him. It proves to be futile, since Minseok has his hands wrapped around his wrists firmly, pinning them on either side of Baekhyun’s head against the mattress.

“Then let me distract you a little more,” Minseok replies slyly, before bending his head down to capture Baekhyun’s lips with his own. Instinctively, Baekhyun responds, kissing him back. Minseok carefully nips and sucks his lips, slow and sweet, as if he’s taking his time exploring them. Soon enough, however, his tongue presses at the edge hesitantly, as if asking for permission - and Baekhyun gives it, parts them wider, letting him in, and Minseok’s tongue slips inside, flicking against his own, prompting his head to spin as his blood rushes downwards, making other parts of his body stir --

Baekhyun moans, the sound lost within their kissing. He’s still not used to the discovery that beneath all that quiet and serious appearance lies someone who can make him _want_ , so much. They haven’t even had done anything yet -- just a few stolen kisses in the hospital backroom when no one’s around or slow make-out sessions when Minseok finds the time to come over - but they’ve never gone beyond those. Not yet, at least.

He’s not used to being led, not used to having someone hold him with such firmness - but somehow, it feels right with Minseok, who knows which buttons to push when it comes to Baekhyun, who knows when to draw back, when to be gentle with him--

And then Minseok rolls his body, rubbing against the lower part of Baekhyun’s body.

Baekhyun lets out a loud whimper, his fingers clenching and unclenching at the empty air, his wrists still kept down by Minseok’s weight. He wants more, and he’s tired of being teased. Frustrated, he shifts his own hips, pressing up his entire body flat against Minseok. He’s almost gratified to hear Minseok’s own answering groan as he bites down on Baekhyun’s lips once, before he breaks off their kiss with a gasp.

“Baekhyun--”

“Minseok, _please_ ,” Baekhyun begs. “Please, I want you. I _need_ you to... to--” his words are cut off once again, as Minseok’s mouth lands on his. It’s different now, the way he kisses; urgent, desperate, and his hips are moving faster now, rolling against Baekhyun’s, rutting against him, his own need obvious through the thin layer of cloth separating them. Baekhyun himself fares no better; he’s pushing back, trying to match Minseok’s movements and gasping at the friction between them.

Minseok’s hands are no longer holding onto Baekhyun’s wrists; he’s released his grip, fingers sliding up to grasp Baekhyun’s own, entangling them together as he begins to speed up, driving Baekhyun closer and closer towards the edge--

Baekhyun lets out a choked-off cry, his body arching upwards just as Minseok groans into his mouth, his hips stuttering, following him towards his own completion.

Later, after they’re all cleaned up, with Minseok having to sheepishly borrow Baekhyun’s boxers, Baekhyun finds himself drifting in and out of sleep. He’s trailing slow circles along Minseok’s hand, listening to his steady, quiet breathing as he dozes, his head resting against Baekhyun’s shoulder.

The clock that Baekhyun keeps on the table by the bed indicates that it’s nearly midnight. He can hear the quiet murmur of conversation outside in the living room, indicating that Chanyeol is probably home from his job at the studio. He picks out a few familiar voices amidst the muffled chatter; Baekhyun surmises that Sehun and Jongin have probably dropped by. For a moment, he breathes out a silent thanks for Minseok’s foresight in locking the room door earlier; he wouldn’t want any of them barging in right now, ruining the peaceful silence.

There’s a narrow stream of light spilling in between the curtains at his window, which he must have forgotten to draw shut properly. The light is probably from the block of flats opposite, as he ponders whether to get up and close them completely, or stay in his warm and comfortable spot, snuggled up to Minseok -- before he notices the metal box on his clothes dresser, which he must have forgotten to store it away earlier in his hurry to clean up his room before Minseok showed up.

Trying not to wake Minseok up, Baekhyun slowly climbs out of bed and pads silently towards the dresser. He brings it over towards the window, where there’s more light, and opens up the box, taking the photo out.

His fourteen-year-old self grinned back at him, with Nam smiling in amusement, as they posed for a selca in front of the poster for a small charity performance at the music school. He remembers that day clearly, when Hyun had shown up at the recital along with a few other singers and Nam had accompanied Baekhyun to the event.

He remembers now, how mesmerized he had been by Hyun’s performance - and when he had glanced over towards Nam, the look on his face had been almost tender, full of emotion and affection.

More importantly, it was the look of pride he had on his face, as Hyun’s voice rose, soaring above the other voices and filling the auditorium and everyone’s hearts with the song.

It’s the kind of look he wants to see, directed at him from the people he loves. When he was been younger, all he thought about was wanting to be a singer, to be a star, to be just like Hyun. But now, as he examines this old memory with a new perspective, he realizes that this is what he wants. He wants to make people happy, to see the looks on their faces as they listen to something he’s created.

Most of all, he wants to see that look on Minseok’s face, and have Minseok always looking at him the same way.

He slips the photograph back into the box and stores it away, before slipping back into bed and snuggling back into Minseok’s arms. Soon enough, lulled by the sense of comfort and warmth, Baekhyun finally falls asleep, dreaming of hope and of tomorrow.

 

****

~*~

Baekhyun is packing up his bags after finishing one of tutoring sessions, when he hears a anxious knock at the door.

He looks up to find one of his students standing in the doorway, looking awed. "Seonsaeng-nim, there's a famous singer here," she says, seemingly giddy with excitement as she enters the room. "They say he used to study in this school, before he became a star."

"An ex-student?" Baekhyun gives her a curious glance. "Who is he, Minah?"

"Hyun, it's Hyun!" Minah replies, unable to contain herself. "Oh, he's so handsome, Seonsaeng-nim," she finishes dreamily.

"I'm sure he is," Baekhyun tells her drily, "but that still doesn't mean you get to slack off during our lessons tomorrow." She pouts, before leaving the room.

Baekhyun finishes packing up quickly and heads towards the elevators. He doesn't intend to run into Hyun. From the way Minah was acting, he's probably already surrounded by scores of bright-eyed students all clamoring for his attention, and while Baekhyun remembers (with a little irony) feeling the same way once - he’s still unable to let go of his bitterness over the revelation of Hyun’s true character.

The elevator arrives, and the door opens just as his phone buzzes with the arrival of a new message. He pulls out his phone and checks it, stepping into the elevator at the same time. The message is from Joonmyun, who’s asking him if he can help out an extra day at the hospital.

Baekhyun’s about to reply when someone shifts on his feet, next to him. Realizing that he’s not alone in the elevator, Baekhyun glances up and finds himself staring at Hyun’s familiar face.

For a while, Baekhyun stands there, confused. He must have stood frozen for too long, because Hyun notices that he’s being stared at and glances at Baekhyun.

“Hello,” he says, smiling pleasantly, startling Baekhyun.

“Uh--” Baekhyun jumps back a little. “H-hi.”

“Are you one of the students?” Hyun asks politely.

“I-- I’m one of the piano tutors.” He gives his name, and Hyun’s face seems to light up at this.

“Baekhyun,” he says warmly. “I remember that name.” He pauses, and Baekhyun catches the flicker of sadness and pain that crosses his face briefly. “One of my....friends used to teach here.”

“Nam,” Baekhyun says, immediately. At the look that Hyun gives him, Baekhyun adds, “He was also my friend.” He adjusts the strap of his bag on his shoulder, feeling awkward talking about Nam to the very person who had broken his heart years ago so amicably.

“Oh,” Hyun says, before asking, hesitantly, “Is he… is he still teaching here?”

Baekhyun shakes his head. “He’s in Osaka.” Nam had moved to Japan a few years ago, hoping to start somewhere new. Baekhyun hadn’t heard from him since, although he still had his email.

Struck by a thought, Baekhyun reaches into his bag, digging for a scrap piece of paper. Unable to find one, he resorts to using one of his empty music sheets, pulling it out and grabbing a pen in the process. He scribbles something down on it, and then hands the paper to Hyun, who takes it from him, glancing at sheet curiously.

“It’s his email,” Baekhyun explains. The elevator has stopped, and the doors are opening into the lobby. “You should… you should talk to him. Tell him that you were wrong.”

Hyun gives him a startled look. “What do you mean?”

“The songs that you’ve been singing all these years,” Baekhyun tells him, “they’re all about him.” Songs that spoke of a yearning for a love that he could never have. Songs that were filled with regret over a lost love. Baekhyun knows all of the lyrics by heart. Hyun’s songs were a living embodiment of the mistakes the singer had made.

“It’s only fair that you tell him the truth,” he says, his grandmother’s advice coming back to him, and he smiles. “Then you’ll know whether you still have a chance at being happy again.”

And with that as his parting words, Baekhyun steps through the doors and doesn’t look back.

 

****

~*~

“Baekhyun, are you certain you want to do this?” Minseok sounds worried. “It doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

“Don’t worry, hyung - I’ve almost got it.” Stretching as far as his hands can go, Baekhyun manages to tie the ribbon around the branch, securing it tightly. “Andddd _done_.”

“Great.” Relief replaces the worry in Minseok’s voice. “Now can you please get down here?”

Baekhyun gingerly clambers down from the tree, clutching the uneven sides of the tree trunk for leverage. When he’s almost three-quarters of the way down, he loses his footing and nearly slips - but Minseok’s hand is there, pressed against his back, steadying him.

“Hah,” Baekhyun says brightly, although his heart is pounding like crazy. “That was close.” He glances back in time to catch Minseok rolling his eyes at him.

“I get that you want to make this entire symbolic gesture with the flowers and all, but couldn’t you have picked a better, _safer_ spot to do this?” He grimaces. “And not when it’s two in the morning, either.”

“What better place than where you first confessed to me?” Baekhyun answers cheekily, as Minseok helps him down, safely. Above them, an assortment of paper flowers, bundled tightly together in a small bouquet with a ribbon, bob merrily from the branch that Baekhyun’s managed to attach it to. The glitter catches the light from the nearby streetlamp, reminding him of a thousand sparkling lights. “Imagine the stories you could tell your grandkids, one day.” He spins around, intending to catch Minseok by surprise to kiss him.

He squeaks as he almost slips again - this time on a patch of water from someone’s spilled drink on the ground - but Minseok is there, holding him by the waist, his chest pressed against Baekhyun’s back.

“Try to stay in one piece,” his boyfriend grumbles from behind him. “So you can tell them yourself.”

Baekhyun feels his face turning warm, but he lets himself lean back, enjoying the way Minseok’s arms tighten around him. He’s glad that there’s no one nearby; that he can do this without someone watching or judging them.

“Oh,” he says, pulling away from Minseok’s embrace to stoop down, picking up one of the paper flowers that hadn’t been properly secured to the bouquet. It had probably fallen off when Baekhyun had been climbing the tree. “I missed one.” He glances up, contemplating if he should get back up there to re-attach the flower.

Minseok solves the problem for him by plucking it from Baekhyun’s hand, and tucking the flower behind Baekhyun’s ear, before leaning in to kiss him on the forehead. “There,” he says, taking a step back, sounding pleased, his grin wide and mischievous. “Problem solved.”

This time, Baekhyun blushes furiously.

“So what’s next?” Minseok asks, still grinning. “I hope you’re not thinking of putting more of these all around Seoul.”

Perking up, Baekhyun looks straight at Minseok’s face, his eyes widening. “That sounds like a great plan--”

“No,” Minseok says promptly.

Baekhyun pouts, and Minseok lets out a chuckle.

“I have a better idea.” He lifts his hand to tweak Baekhyun’s nose affectionately. “We could go over to my place. My roommate’s gone back to his parents’ place for the weekend.” He gives Baekhyun a sly look. “We’ll have the apartment to ourselves.”

“Hmm,” Baekhyun feigns innocence. “What would we be doing?”

Minseok takes a step closer, his arms reaching up to wrap around the back of Baekhyun’s neck, drawing his head down. He presses his mouth close to Baekhyun’s ear, and whispers a few suggestions, all rather descriptive and enough to make Baekhyun’s breath hitch.

“Is that enough for you?” Minseok asks, a teasing lilt to his voice after he pulls away. His hands are still on Baekhyun, this time resting on his shoulders. “Or I could always let you take the cab back to your flat alone--”

“No no, we should, ah, definitely go to your place,” Baekhyun replies hurriedly. And then, on a whim, he adds, “But only if you promise to wear a hot nurse uniform.”

With a gleeful laugh at the outraged sound that Minseok lets out, Baekhyun quickly slips out of Minseok’s hold and starts running down the street. He barely makes it to the end of the block before Minseok reaches him.

As Baekhyun finds himself being kissed breathlessly, his giggles subdued -- he catches sight of Minseok’s face-splitting grin and thinks: this is his happiness.

 

**_One year later_ **

Baekhyun strolls down the street, humming to himself. His messenger bag is slung over one shoulder as the music streams from the headphones around his ears.

(It’s a new song that’s been playing on radio a lot recently; about hope and new beginnings, about finding the right person to share all of that with. Baekhyun’s really proud of it; after all, it’s the best thing he’s ever written with Chanyeol - for now, anyway.)

His phone buzzes; he checks it to find a message from his aunt, reminding him of their lunch plans tomorrow, and to invite Minseok along as well. It’s odd, he thinks as he sends her a quick reply, how a simple apology and an open, honest conversation had worked out between them - partly egged on by his grandmother. His aunt hadn’t been angry at him, but she understood that he was an adult now, and that he had his own decisions and life to lead.

Things are changing within his family already. Baekhyun’s father will retire from his job next year, and is already making plans to spend as much time as he can with his family. His mother has taken up a new offer in a new firm in Seoul, a decision that she wished she had done years ago - she confides in Baekhyun’s grandmother, who had told Baekhyun about it.

While Baekhyun’s glad for their decisions, he wonders if it’s a little too late. To Baekhyun, family had always meant his grandparents and his brother and even his aunt; and the thought of spending his time getting to know his parents again makes him worried, that he can’t live up to their expectations of a perfect son. He’s not looking forward to finally coming out to his father - his mother already knows about Minseok, and while she’s not thrilled about the revelation, she’s not entirely against it either - he knows that he can’t pretend around him any longer.

Still, there’s some hope. His brother had made good on his promise to return last year for Chuseok, and had met Minseok and gotten along with him easily. This year, he’s promise to return again, this time with his wife and baby girl. This time, Baekhyun believes him.

As he turns the corner into the smaller alley that leads to the hospital, he catches sight of Minseok, who’s sitting on the topmost steps, engrossed in his book. Baekhyun pauses for a moment, drinking in the sight, thinking, of how far they’ve come.

They’ve come a long way this past year. It’s not perfect, this thing they have, this relationship; there are days Baekhyun feels the sense of dread creeping back into his mind; when he still thinks that at any given moment, Minseok will turn to him and tell him that he’s leaving, that he had been wrong about them. Minseok is a patient man, but even the most patient have their limits; he retreats, giving Baekhyun his space. It’s a poor move, because all it does is to let Baekhyun feel that he had been right all along, that Minseok would eventually cast him aside.

It’s moments like these that makes Baekhyun wonder if they had been in over their heads, if they were never meant to be.

Yet, they both learn to adapt. Slowly, eventually, Baekhyun learns to ignore his insecurities, choosing, instead, to sidle closer to Minseok, to tuck himself against his sides and bury his face in his neck, his heart pounding; Minseok’s fingers always end up entangled with his as he sighs, as the panic begins to fade away. Minseok learns that Baekhyun calms down better when Minseok holds him in his arms; when he speaks affectionately and soothingly - reminding Baekhyun that he’s _here_ \- until Baekhyun stops wanting to run away.

Tonight, they’ll find themselves in Minseok’s flat, watching a variety show, and Baekhyun will make terrible jokes and even more terrible puns the entire time. He’ll see the way Minseok will look over at him with a frown, but Baekhyun will only grin, feeling mischievous and _happy_ , and it’ll take Minseok a few seconds before the look on his face will melt into something that’s akin to fondness, before the faint dimple will appear on his cheek from his smile as he tugs Baekhyun into his lap, kissing him breathless if only to silence him.

But for now, _right now_ , he settles for the way the corner of Minseok’s eyes crinkle when he looks at Baekhyun, and the way he lets their hands brush against each other, the touch meaning more than anything else. For now, this is enough.

As they walk into the building, a gentle breeze drifts from the street and brushes against Baekhyun’s face, whispering softly in his ear with all the beginnings of a lovely season.

It’s the first day of spring.

 

~ _fin_ ~

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the Xiumin fest at seokmonsters, cleaned up and re-posted here with minor edits. 
> 
> A bajillion cookies and hearts to C & E for beta’ing this story, especially to C for not only putting up with my endless whining but for being my constant cheerleader the entire ride. <3


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